


Pale Moon

by PrinceWinter



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: A Really Convoluted AU, Alternate Universe, Annette Makes Friends Where She Shouldn't, Ashe Likes Wyverns, At Lot More Has Changed Than You Might Think, Both Byleth and Dimitri Need A Bath, Byleth Makes Friends, Canon Divergence, Canonical Character Death, Caspar Petra and Linhardt were recruited to Blue Lions, Demon Byleth, Demonic Beast Byleth, Demonic Beasts, Feral Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Blue Lions Route, Group Bonding, Healing, Human/Monster Romance, Hurt/Comfort, Learning to be Human, M/M, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Alternating, Post-Timeskip | War Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Rating May Change, Slow Burn, Sothis is Sad, Spoilers for Post-Timeskip | War Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Wyverns, YES BETA WE LIVE UNLIKE GLENN, spoilers for all routes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-01
Updated: 2020-04-29
Packaged: 2021-02-22 08:47:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 24,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22513462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrinceWinter/pseuds/PrinceWinter
Summary: To tame a beast, sometimes what it takes is another monster.[Demon!Byleth AU, War Phase Azure Moon route]
Relationships: Annette Fantine Dominic/Mercedes von Martritz, Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/My Unit | Byleth, Dorothea Arnault/Edelgard von Hresvelg, Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Comments: 42
Kudos: 219





	1. The Creature Breathes

**Author's Note:**

> Because yes, the thing I need most in the world is *another* fic. I'm not abandoning 'Nothing to Confess', just that this story has been clawing at the inside of my brain, and I can't seem to get it out. So here we are. Hopefully I can juggle both stories without too much struggle.

The creature that roamed the icy fields lived a simple life. It did not question why it came to be - as that was a question with no answers, anyhow - simply that it lived and it breathed. It was a scavenger by nature, not a fighter, and so it ventured out only at night at the scenes of human battles, picking the abandoned corpses for food and other useful items.

Eating human flesh was not the creature’s preference, though if it couldn’t find any discarded rations amongst the ransacked tents and overturned carts, it was what would have to do. The worst was when there were still living humans in the rubble, or when a late night patrol of the human soldiers would catch the creature in the act. Humans always treated it with fear and aggression. The creature was able to fight back, of course. It had slain many attacking humans with its dagger-sharp claws and teeth. However, it didn’t enjoy the process.

It stood at its full height now, gazing around the destroyed camp which it had focused its efforts on. The smell of blood and ash permeated the air. Earlier, when the sun was only just starting to set, the creature watched as the humans had torn each other apart on this very soil, and yet no amount of observation could ever help it understand why. It kept its body low to the ground, creeping amongst the destroyed remains, and wondered to itself just what was so worth killing for on this small patch of land. 

A barrel turned on its side was filled with dead fish that were still relatively fresh. Of course, not like freshness mattered much. The creature’s instincts had once warned it against eating things that were rotten, but a desperate hunger had pushed it to eat something spoiled once, and it felt no negative effects. Despite its initial hesitation, it seemed rotten food had no negative effects on the creature’s stomach. Nonetheless, fresh food simply  _ tasted  _ better. Sometimes life was merely that simple.

The creature took a fish into its claws and sat in the shelter of a half-crushed tent, sinking its fangs deep into the fish’s scales. Chilled blood filled his mouth and bones crunched under his teeth, a combination that would’ve been unpleasant to any normal being, but was deeply satisfying to the creature. After consuming two of the fish, the creature was content with its fill, and looked around the rest of the camp. Was there anything else it needed? It looked down at itself.

For reasons it didn’t quite understand, it preferred to cover its own body with cloth, just like humans did. It had accumulated a few layers of old rags, simply taking a few pieces from bodies here and there. It was difficult to find clothes that could accommodate its broad, bat-like wings, however. Eventually it had settled on taking the top piece and scoring slits in the back with its claws, and that had worked out well enough.

The current ragged clothes it wore were well enough. It felt sufficiently covered, at least. What about anything else? The creature saw many discarded weapons and armors, and even a few pieces of junk - the kind of ‘collectable’ junk that humans valued so dearly - but nothing interested it. The only thing that caught its eye was a tent that hadn’t been fully destroyed. Perhaps it could sleep in that tonight. It cautiously crept inside, pushing the flaps of fabric aside. The interior was trashed, with a desk thrown on its side, and a crate filled with baubles broken into pieces scattered about. However, there was a heap of bedrolls shoved into the back that caught the creature’s attention more than anything else.

It nestled itself into the heap of furs and cloth, savoring the warm and comfortable feeling. The creature rarely slept in the same place twice, and thus rarely had the comforts of a proper nest. Whenever it could enjoy those comforts, it gladly took the opportunity. Wrapping its wings around itself, the creature dozed off to sleep.

When the creature slept, it rarely dreamed. Even if it did, the dreams were vague and dark, with shapes and colors that were difficult to make sense of. However, on this night, the creature dreamed far more vividly than it was used to. The creature was in a room like the inside of a tent, but much nicer. Stone walls like the fortresses the creature had only seen from a distance surrounded it, though gentle sunlight streamed in through one of the windows. It picked itself up off of a bed. No, not a bedroll, or a pile of furs and pillows, but a proper  _ bed. _

It stretched and yawned with contentedness, swinging its legs off of the side of the bed and standing. The room was warm and cozy, nothing like even the finest shelters the creature had ever found. The creature felt its body move on its own, standing and dressing itself in fine robes, not ragged cloth. The dream began to grow fuzzy at the edges as the creature approached a reflective surface - a  _ mirror,  _ it recalled - and saw a face not its own.

The creature looked nothing like the human it saw as its own reflection. The human’s skin was a soft pale color instead of ashen grey, its hair long and a dark teal like a river in the evening. It had the short, round ears of a normal human, and no horns split from its scalp. Its face, too, was different. The human’s face was round and plump, just like the rest of its figure, and had gentle creases under the eyes. A sign of age, perhaps? 

However, despite the difference in color - a soft lavender versus a sharp gold - the creature realized that its own eyes, and the eyes of this human, were the same.

Then, it woke up with a start. The sound of footsteps outside of the tent wormed into its ears, and the creature sat up. It crept low across the ground, towards the opening of the tent, and towards the origin of the sound. The footsteps grew closer, along with voices. Two voices were higher pitched, like the round humans, and the third was a lower voice, like the more square-ish humans. 

“Was this a bandit camp?” One of the higher voices spoke. “Oh, geez. I wonder what got them?”

The lower voice, sounding slightly irritated, replied. “Probably just a skirmish between bandit groups. Not our problem. Let’s get a move on.”

“Wait,” the third voice, with a very soft sound to it, spoke up. “Felix, we were sent to track a demonic beast, weren’t we? What if this camp was attacked by it? Oh, how dreadful..”

_ Felix…? _ The creature was confused. That wasn’t a word it knew. It took the creature a moment to recall that humans had special words they used to refer to each other by, something called a ‘name’. Was ‘Felix’ the square human’s name? Another thing the soft-voiced human had said was weird as well. The creature had watched this camp get destroyed by other humans, not by a monster. Why would the human think there was a monster here?

The creature finally poked its head out of the tent, still trying to remain hidden. It spotted the three humans at the far end of the camp. As the creature thought, there were two round humans and one square human, all similar heights. (Though the square human was a little bit taller) One had bright orange hair, the other had short pale hair, and the square human had a mop of black hair which was messy even by the creature’s own animalistic standards.

However, what chilled the creature to its core was the fact that all three of the humans were  _ armed.  _ The square human had a sword at his hip, a wickedly sharp blade made of shining steel, while the round humans both had the hum of magic at their fingertips. They weren’t simply looking for a monster, they were  _ hunting _ one.

The creature, in that moment, realized that the monster they were hunting was likely itself. It felt a cold pressure in its chest, and a tingling sensation in its limbs. It felt the instinct to  _ run.  _ Run before it gets hurt. The bright-haired human began checking the tents, commenting idly to its companions as it did so, and the creature knew it had only moments to get a head start before its own tent was next.

And so, the creature bolted from the tent at full speed, dropping onto all fours for more speed. The humans all let out sounds of surprise as it ran, before beginning a pursuit.

“There it is,” the dark-haired one growled. “Mercedes, hit it with something--get the wings, so it can’t fly away!”

“On it,” the soft-voiced human replied. Now fearing being grounded, the creature spread its wings to take off, but it was too late. Searing-hot pain spread across the membrane of its wings, and it crashed back down onto the frozen soil.

The bright-haired human flanked it from the side. “Take this!” Her voice was full of determination as vivid as her colors, and a blast of powerful, cutting wind magic sent the creature tumbling into the trunk of a tree. It let out a cry of anguish before the back of its head hit something hard, and everything went dark.

* * *

Annette Fantine Dominic was a soldier.

She was a soldier who was no stranger to killing and cruelty. As much as she loathed to acknowledge it, many of her opponents had breathed their last due to the magic that surged at her fingertips. It wasn’t something she was happy about, or proud of, but she knew it was a necessity in war. She knew there was no way to escape it, as long as she wanted herself and her friends to survive.

However, she prided herself on one fact: when an enemy was still alive, but clearly defeated, she would let them go. Felix often scolded her, telling her that someone she spared would obviously come back to get revenge someday, but she didn’t care. She felt like it was worth the risk to do the right thing. Even still, the weight of the decision - to spare or kill another human being - weighed heavily on her shoulders with each battle.

That’s why she liked monster hunting. She could fight monsters without guilt, letting her power surge into her hands without fear of taking life unneededly. After all, monsters weren’t the same as humans. They had to be put down, or else they would hurt more innocent people. Sure, she knew that they were alive too, and she would never truly enjoy the act of killing, but it was still so much easier on her.

At least, it was supposed to be. This mission was supposed to be  _ easy.  _ A small demonic beast had been sighted near the monastery, and Seteth had figured it would be a good way to keep a handful of soldiers busy, while helping out the local towns. Apparently the beast had been acting strangely, stealing supplies from merchants and towns, and was just a great nuisance. That’s why it was supposed to be easy - it wouldn’t involve killing any other people, and would be a relief for the people who lived here.

And then the beast ran away. That was the thing about demonic beasts in particular; they were aggressive, attacking with all that they had until their final breath. Even with three feet in the grave, a monster will keep fighting, because all it knows is aggression. They don’t  _ run away.  _ That was the first sign that something was odd. Still, she fought on, sending a blast of her Cutting Gale at the creature after Mercie had given it a taste of a Bolganone, sending it flying into a tree.

Then, she saw its face. Its human face. In fact, despite the claws, wings, and horns, it looked hauntingly human. Laying limp at the tree roots, it didn’t even look like a monster anymore, it looked like a wounded person struggling to stay conscious.

Annette was a soldier. She wasn’t incapable of killing. But she wasn’t about to kill someone who had clearly already been defeated. Felix strode towards the downed creature and raised his blade, catching the dawn light on the shining metal, preparing to plunge it deep into the wounded beast’s flesh.

“Wait!” She found herself crying out before her mind even caught up to the situation, rushing over to Felix’s side and grabbing his arm. “Felix, wait, look at its face - that’s a person!”

Felix looked at her as if she’d grown three heads. “What are you talking about? It has a human face, but do you not see what the  _ rest  _ of it looks like? Don’t go soft on me now.”

Mercie, bless her, came to back Annette up. “No, I think Annie’s right. I’ve never seen a demonic beast so… human.” She knelt by the body, which had gone completely still besides the rise and fall of its breathing. “Do you remember the beasts at the ruined chapel, before the war? When we defeated them…”

“Oh, right!” Annette paled. “They were actually students, not monsters… do you think this is the same?”

Felix scoffed. “They weren’t human anymore by the time we fought them. We can’t show pity to  _ beasts. _ It’ll just stand back up and start attacking us again.”

“Um…” Annette fidgeted. “It didn’t attack us, it just ran away. Maybe it’s… maybe it’s still human?”

“What?! Are you not seeing it? It’s clearly a-”

Mercie’s hands lit up with a healing spell as she began to stitch together the creature’s wounds. Felix sputtered like a clogged pipe for several seconds, unable to find the words to respond to Mercedes’ actions. 

“Annie’s right,” Mercie spoke softly. “I think it might still be human, somehow. We should bring it back to the monastery.”

Felix looked about three seconds away from using his newly-learned reason magic to set the forest on fire. “Oh yes, brilliant, let’s bring a demonic beast into the monastery. If it doesn’t kill us all, then Seteth definitely will.”

“Felix…” Annette whined, and he visibly winced. She had to hold back a smug expression. For all of his prickly nature, he had a soft spot for his  _ best friend. _ (Felix had never admitted she was his best friend, but of course she knew that was absolutely the case.) He could throw a fit and give anyone a hard time about anything, everyone except  _ her.  _

Mercedes used a silence spell to ensure the creature stayed asleep as Felix picked it up. “It’s light. Does it even eat?” He grimaced, but didn’t seem to struggle at all with carrying the creature. “Whatever. Let’s just get a move on. You both owe me for this.”

“Thank you, Felix,” Mercie said. “Let’s go.”

“And while we walk, we’re going to have to think of a reaaaally good reason to explain this to Seteth, huh…?” Annette wasn’t looking forward to  _ that  _ conversation. Nonetheless, there was a light feeling in her chest as they departed back for the monastery. A feeling of hope.

* * *

Ashe Ubert did many odd jobs around the monastery when he wasn’t busy training. He liked some more than he liked others. For example, every so often he was stuck cleaning the bathhouses, and that was hardly enjoyable. Sometimes, like today, he was tasked with taking care of the wyverns in the stables. That was a job he enjoyed far more.

Seteth’s wyvern (which he refused to name himself, so Ashe had affectionately named it Cichol, after one of the four saints) was one of the more prickly and difficult ones, though  _ usually  _ it would at least work with him a little. Today, however, Ashe found that the large reptile wouldn’t even eat. Considering the monstrous appetite most wyverns had, the fact that Cichol wouldn’t eat a morsel was worrying. After feeding the rest of the flock, Ashe sighed and packed up his supplies, heading for the advisor’s office. Seteth should hear about this personally.

However, as he approached the archbishop’s chamber, a commotion caught his attention quite quickly. He hovered near the main doors, only daring to poke his head inside from where he stood in the hall. Seteth stood in the middle of the room, clearly  _ fuming,  _ as Annette, Felix, and Mercedes wilted like children caught with a hand in the cookie jar. It was a sight that was both slightly amusing and very concerning.

“--and you brought it here!? To the monastery?!” Seteth pinched the bridge of his nose, clearly on his last nerve. “You’re lucky we got it into a cell while it was still  _ unconscious _ , if it had woken up in the courtyard, where  _ civilians  _ were milling about…”

Annette looked up, trying to protest. “I-I’m sorry, Seteth,” she stammered, before continuing with a steadier voice, “but listen, it wasn’t acting like a normal demonic beast! I think it’s still a person…!”

Ashe covered his mouth to keep from giving away his position as he gasped.  _ Annette brought a demonic beast into the monastery!? How!? _

“Some demonic beasts were once human, right?” Mercedes stepped in to back up her friend. “But all the ones we faced before acted fully like monsters, but this one was acting very strange. It ran away instead of attacking us, and it still looks so much like a person…”

“As much as I hate to agree with these two,” Felix grumbled, “the imperial army relies on its hoards of beasts. If we keep this weird one with us, maybe we can figure out how they work, and how to fight them better.”

Despite the fact that Felix was on her side, Annette didn’t seem pleased with the idea of using the creature they had apparently rescued as a test subject. But, whatever she was thinking, she didn’t bring it up in front of Seteth.

The pseudo-leader of the Church sighed. “...yes, but what of the danger? It may only be mid-transformation; what if the transformation completes, and it becomes much larger and we cannot contain it? We shelter many civilians here at Garreg Mach, innocent people could get hurt.”

Ashe’s stomach twisted. If the creature they had brought in was still human, it might be a victim of the Empire. It’d be the right thing to do to help it. However, Seteth was right. It could be far too dangerous to keep it here, and innocent people could get hurt. He couldn’t figure out what was the right thing to do…

He was so caught up in his own thoughts that he hadn’t noticed someone was coming up from behind him. “Eavesdropping, are we?” A low voice growled. “I thought better of you.”

Ashe gasped and stumbled away. “Y-Your highness, I’m so sorry, I--”

Dimitri sneered and looked away, his dull eyes glaring into the audience chamber. “It matters little. Do what you will.” Ashe watched helplessly as the prince stalked into the chamber, towards the debating group. Now with his hiding place busted, Ashe inched inside. 

“So the boar came out of his den. Delightful,” Felix said flatly as the prince entered. “What is it? Run out of slop to-  _ ow!” _ He staggered as Annette roughly elbowed him in the side.

Dimitri seemed unaffected by Felix’s jeering. “I heard about the beast that was brought in. I want to know  _ why. _ ”

Ashe blinked in surprise. Dimitri, ever since he had…  _ changed,  _ had no interest in what was going on around him. He’d been lost in his own head, obsessed with ‘revenge’ and other morbid topics.  _ Why has this caught his attention all of a sudden? _ It was out of character for the new Dimitri.

Annette, to her credit, didn’t show any fear as she launched into the same spiel she gave Seteth, about the potential for the beast to still be human. Dimitri watched with his unwavering, clouded eye, his expression unchanging throughout the entire pitch.

“So, um, your highness, that’s why we have the beast here. You understand, right?” Her confidence started to falter. The old Dimitri, the one from the academy, would have understood completely. However, this new one… he couldn’t be sure.

He was quiet for a few moments. “...I see. So the panic I heard from others within the monastery was foolish rambling all along.” His voice was low, and Ashe shuddered uneasily.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Mercedes’ voice was soft with concern.

Dimitri grinned, but it was an expression with no joy. “Now, instead of one monster in the monastery, there are two. Very little has changed.” His grin fell. “I wasted my time coming here. Do with the creature what you will.”   
“Ah, your highness--” Ashe reached out a hand, but Dimitri was already turning to leave. He left, leaving a cold aura in his wake. He was gone, assumedly back to the chapel, where he had been for days upon end.

“...we’ll keep it for now,” Seteth spoke, after many tense moments of silence. “But I will not hesitate to put it down should it become aggressive or dangerous. On top of that, it stays in its cell until we know its not a danger to the rest of the residents of the monastery.”

Annette actually managed to smile, despite the room. “Really? Oh, thank you Seteth! Don’t worry, I’ll check in on it every day, and bring it food, and-”

“You sound like a child who was allowed to keep a stray dog,” Felix grumbled, prompting Annette to shoot him a glare.

As the bickering began, Seteth turned to Ashe. “So, care to explain your eavesdropping?”

“I-I wasn’t- Ah, I mean, I didn’t… intend to eavesdrop,” Ashe replied, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “I was taking care of the wyverns today, and I wanted to talk to you about Cichol- your wyvern, I mean. I, um, I named it.”

Seteth choked. “ _ Please do not name my wyvern that. _ ”

* * *

The creature dreamed again. 

It dreamed of a broad chamber, with walls so distant it couldn’t see the edges. Before it stretched a staircase that lead up to a grand stone throne. Slowly, it picked its way up the stairs, curious about what waited for him at the top.

A sound reached the creature’s ears. It was a human sound, uneven and sharp. It was like breathing, but unsteady. The creature had heard it only a few times, from wounded humans left in the wreckages of battle-torn places. It was the sound of sobbing.

When the creature reached the top of the stairs, atop the throne it saw a small human with green hair, crying into its hands. No, wait - this wasn’t a human. Its ears were pointed, much like the creature’s own, and something about this being felt different than a human. Like how magic hummed at a human’s fingertips, this entire being hummed with energy.

The sobbing stopped for a moment, and the green-haired being looked up, its eyes flying wide as it saw the creature.

“...who… who are  _ you?” _

Then, the creature woke up.


	2. Flock Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Garreg Mach is invaded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's have a little more Dimitri this time, shall we? Also, this is where the 'violence' warning really applies. There's some serious carnage here.

The creature’s cell was actually the most comfortable place it had ever slept. There was a bed with blankets and pillows, shelter from the wind and cold, and it was safe from any threats. The only downside was that the creature hadn’t been fed yet. Hunger gnawed at the inside of its belly soon after it awoke, and it gripped the cell bars, waiting for someone to come by and provide it with a meal.

It took a few uncomfortable hours for that meal to arrive, held in the hands of the bright-haired human;  _ Annette _ , as the creature recalled. She held a platter in her hands, sliding it into the cell through a slot. The creature looked the plate over and immediately approved. Cooked food was a luxury it rarely was afforded, so the smell of the grilled fish immediately made its mouth water. Fish in general was a definite favorite.

“Sorry I didn’t come down sooner!” Annette spoke, kneeling in front of the cell to be level with the creature as it ate. “How are you feeling?” A pause. “...oh, um, you can understand me, right? Oh geez, what if you can’t talk…”

The creature took a bit of offense to that. “Of course I can understand you,” it spoke in a voice that was a bit hoarse from underuse. The creature didn’t need to speak often, but it could. It didn’t recall how it learned to speak, it was just a skill that it had naturally. “I’m… alright. The cell is comfortable. The food is good.” It takes another bite. “Thank you.”

Annette beamed. “Oh, no problem at all! I actually brought some extra bedding. After all, I didn’t want to treat you like a prisoner. You’re more like a guest than that!” She giggled. “Anyways, I’m Annette, what’s your name?”

The creature shook its head. “I don’t have a name. Only humans have names.”

She winced. “Oh, um… Well, whether you’re human or not, I think you should be treated like one, so…” Another pause, this one with a bit of fidgeting. “Oh! If you want, I could give you a name?”

The creature blinked slowly. “A name? For… me?” It had never felt like it needed one, but if this human insisted. “Fine. You have to think of one, though. I don’t know how names work.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that!” She smiled widely. “I’m super creative. I’ll think of something in a snap. Hmmm…” She went quiet for a moment, thinking. “...oh, I think I know. It’s a really heroic-sounding name from a book I read! The main character was a shadowy thief - but, you know, a good thief that steals from those who can afford it, and gives to those in need.” She smiled brightly - everything about this human was  _ bright _ \- and continued. “The thief’s name was  _ Byleth. _ How does that sound to you?”

“Byleth…” The creature tried the name on its tongue, considering it for a moment. It wasn’t really sure what merits a name should be judged on. “Byleth.”

Annette nodded eagerly. “Yup, just like that! Does that work for you?”

The creature - now named Byleth - shrugged. “It does, I suppose. What now?” It had a name. It wasn’t exactly sure how that made a difference, but it figured that if the human was so insistent on it, it must matter to her.

“Well, since you’ll be staying here for a bit, and living with humans, I wanted to teach you a few things, if that was alright?” Her smile was sheepish. “I’m a pretty good teacher, don’t worry! I learned from someone pretty great.”

_ Someone pretty great.  _ Byleth felt a nudge in its chest at that, but it didn’t dwell on that. “That’s fine. Go on.”

Annette began explaining what she felt were the bare necessities. A few more details of Byleth’s own identity were worked out - apparently, by human standards, he was ‘male’, which meant he wasn’t to be called an ‘it’ anymore, and something about that identity felt right to him - before she went on to explain his situation and where he was.

He was in a large structure known as  _ Garreg Mach Monastery _ . It was once the home of a powerful church and a prestigious academy. Annette herself was once a student, alongside Mercedes and Felix, and many others. He was currently in a prison cell, though he wasn’t a prisoner. She apologetically explained that some of the residents of the monastery were afraid of what a demonic beast could do, but Byleth waved her apologies off. He understood. Besides, his cell was perfectly comfortable for now. 

Her good mood started to deflate as she described what was going on with the rest of the world. The land they resided in was called  _ Fodlan, _ which was a word he’d heard before, but didn’t understand. Fodlan had once been home to three separate powers - an Empire, a Kingdom, and an Alliance - but they had been thrown into war around five years ago. Only recently had Annette reunited with her former classmates and vowed to fight for peace in Fodlan, and so far it was an uphill battle. 

Byleth had long since cleaned his plate by the time Annette had finished explaining the last few details. “...I see. The world is far more complicated than I’d thought.” From his perspective, humans were just creatures that fought for no reason, and lead lives that made no sense. Many things still continued to confuse him, but he was starting to understand. “Thank you for explaining.”

“Huh? Oh-” She giggled. “Oh no, you don’t have to thank me. I’m totally happy to explain all this stuff! I can’t imagine what it’s like, not really knowing the world around you.”

Byleth shrugged. “It wasn’t a problem. But, now that I’m here, I guess I should know these things.”

Annette smiled warmly once more. “Well, I’m glad to help! But right now, I really should be going. I promised I’d help Ashe with kitchen duty - or at least, um, the clean-up. I’ll be back around again soon!”

_ Ashe. _ Another name. He wondered when he would meet these other people that Annette spoke of. Even Felix and Mercedes, who he’d seen on the field, were just faces and names he didn’t really know anything about. For now, however, he simply nodded. “Alright then.”

After she had left, Byleth crawled back into bed. His belly was full, he was warm, and he had a name and identity of his own. Things were good.

* * *

Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd had spent the past few years living alongside the dead.

In moments of clarity, he knew their voices weren’t real, but it was in those moments that the voices cut even deeper. That was when he knew that what he’d lived through had broken him beyond repair, that the wills of the dead he left behind had sunk their claws into his very mind. He would despair at these facts, and the clarity would melt back into fog. The ghosts became real once more.

He stood at the apex of the cathedral, watching the daylight stream through the ceiling and onto the pearl-white rubble. Glenn Fraldarius, a ghost he saw often, stood at his side. Deep gashes scored through his face and body, blood seeping from the gaps in his armor. Dimitri couldn’t bear to look at him, but he knew he was there, and he knew intimately just the state he was in.

“Here you are again,” his voice spoke, ethereal and wisplike. “The coward I died for, rotting away inside until nothing remains but his withered husk.”

Dimitri’s chest tightened. “I… I will fulfil your wishes, Glenn. I will.” He spoke softly, some lucid part of him not wanting to disturb the devout that were here for prayer. “You have my word.”

“And what good is your word?” Glenn put a hand on Dimitri’s shoulder, as cold as pure ice. “Edelgard von Hresvelg still lives. Surely you’ve had plenty of chances to bring me her head by now, and yet…”

“It hasn’t been the right  _ time _ ,” Dimitri insisted. “I swear to you, the moment I am able, the very second she is within my sight, I will-”

Glenn cut him off uncaringly. “You’re so willing to take your time, hm? And let us all suffer until then.” There were a few tense moments of stillness. “...look at me, Dimitri.”

He couldn’t bring himself to. “I will end your suffering soon, I… I will…”

“I said look at me.” Glenn’s icy touch cupped Dimitri’s cheek. He shuddered and let the gaze of his one good eye turn to the mutilated face of a once dearest friend. His hollow eye sockets started emotionlessly back at him, just as they had on that day, when Dimitri had run over to his body to try and save him. “Every day, I relive the pain of my death. We all do. The flames of Duscur will burn us to our very souls until your work is done.”

Dimitri turned away. “...I know. I… I  _ know.” _

“Good.” Glenn’s presence began to fade. “Do well to remember it, then.”

“...of course I will.” Dimitri let his eyes close, and felt the fires lick icily against his skin. “How could… I ever forget?”

* * *

Ingrid Brandl Galatea was happiest when she was in the sky. Her pegasus had been her most loyal companion for many years now, and high above the earth was where she felt most free. This meant that sky watching duty was her favorite task of all, and one she could do effortlessly. 

Ashe, on the other hand, needed a bit of help. He’d been showing a lot of enthusiasm as of late when it came to caring for the wyverns, which clearly meant it was about time he’d gotten on the back of one. One of the youngest wyverns, one with jet black scales, had taken quite a liking to him, and had recently grown to the appropriate size for flight. 

Ingrid was circling above as Ashe tried to collect his nerves. “It’ll be fine,” she called out. “Just do exactly as I told you, and it’ll be easy.”

Ashe gulped before replying. “I-I know, just… give me a moment!” He adjusted the saddle for the umpteenth time before finally deciding to bite the arrow and mount the winged beast. “Alright, alright… I’m going to do it!”

Ingrid nudged her pegasus to move out of the way, already prepared for a messy takeoff. She had full confidence that Ashe’s first proper flight would go just fine, but that didn’t mean there wouldn’t be any hiccups along the way, and she valued her beloved pegasus too much to have her crash into a confused wyvern. 

Steeling himself for another moment, Ashe pulled the reins, commanding the wyvern to take to the air. With a heavy wingbeat, the wyvern soared upwards with surprising grace. His rider, however, was much less graceful. Ingrid held a chuckle to herself as she heard Ashe’s startled yelping.

“There you go, just like that!” She called to him. “Now, just follow me. I’ll show you the patrol route.”

“A-Alright!” Ashe replied as soon as he caught his breath. Content that he would be able to follow her instructions, Ingrid took off. 

The sky watch took almost the same route daily, circling the main monastery grounds and keeping an eye out for any distant intruders. There was double pressure on Ingrid to keep an eye out today, as she knew Ashe would be far too focused on not falling off his mount to really pay much mind to his surroundings. 

But, as usual, the surrounding lands seemed quite clear. Ingrid allowed her mind to wander as she settled into the familiar routine, glancing back every now and then to make sure Ashe hadn’t crashed into one of the many stone towers that made up Garreg Mach’s walls. Much to her delight, he was learning quickly, and his mount was blessedly well-behaved for such a young wyvern.

As she flew, she recalled the conversation she’d had with Ashe earlier. He was rarely the type to talk about rumors, but even he couldn’t stop what he’d heard from spilling out of his mouth the moment they’d started chatting. 

“Annette brought a demonic beast back to the monastery!” He’d said in a fluster.

She hadn’t known what to make of the news when Ashe had first brought it to her. Demonic beasts were, as she knew them, ruthless monsters that couldn’t be reasoned with or easily contained. Yet, going by what she heard, they had simply carried this one back to the monastery with little trouble. Apparently it now resided in one of the unused prison cells to ensure it wouldn’t suddenly go berserk and hurt anyone. 

But what an odd thing it was, a beast that looked apparently so human that Annette and Mercedes couldn’t bring themselves to slay it. Ingrid made a mental note to go and visit it in its cell. It’d be interesting to see if the beast could maybe hold a conversation.

“Uh, Ingrid?” Ashe shouted above the wind. “Ingrid, look over there!”

She looked over to where he was pointing and felt a chill run down her spine. Just over one of the jagged peaks surrounding the monastery, she could see a large mass of people moving. She also didn’t need to squint to see the entire crowd was painted a deep shade of imperial  _ red _ .

She pulled her pegasus to a stop. “That’s an army- Ashe, we need to alert the knights and prepare for battle! The monastery is under attack!”

* * *

Byleth enjoyed the peace and quiet, but he hadn’t expected that  _ boredom _ would be a problem. Always on the move, always scouring for food and places to rest, Byleth never had the opportunity to get bored in his previous life. However, in this cell, there was very little to occupy himself with. He’d slept quite a bit, but his body refused any more rest, leaving him to only pace back and forth, mulling over his thoughts.

Just as he found himself wishing for something to catch his interest, his request was granted. A commotion from above caught his ears, and he strained himself to listen. He couldn’t make out any individual words or voices, only the sound of many people talking. All he could sense was that he  _ did _ feel a sense of panic from the humans above. He wrapped his clawed fingers around the bars of his cell, feeling his grip tighten unconsciously.

For what felt like an eternity, that’s all there was: the sound of panic and fear. Then, he felt the ground begin to shake with innumerable footsteps. His tail lashed anxiously as he felt an urge- no, a  _ need  _ to know what was going on above, but it would be a wish left ungranted. If he used all of his strength, he could likely rip the bars away, but he knew that the humans would respond to such an action with fear.

Fear… Byleth felt something tug in his chest. Why did it matter if humans feared him? He couldn’t quite answer it himself. Plenty of humans had feared him before. He felt his grip tighten even further as the stone beneath his feet shook once again, stronger this time. Annette’s former classmates, whom she had spoken about so warmly, were they in danger up on the surface?

The ground shook once again, this time nearly throwing Byleth off of his feet, kept standing only by his iron grip on the cell bars. He grit his teeth and let out a low growl despite himself. He just wished there was a way, a way to be  _ up there  _ without violating the trust the humans had put in him, if only there was -

The ground shook so violently that no amount of strength could’ve kept Byleth where he stood. He was thrown against the far wall, wincing as his fragile wings took most of the blow. The sound of stone crumbling stormed his ears, and his vision clouded with dust. The next thing Byleth knew, fiery evening sunlight streamed in through a fresh hole in the top of his prison cell. Above, he could see soldiers clad in red clashing with soldiers painted silver and blue.  _ The Empire and the Kingdom _ , Byleth realized.

_ The students are in danger. _

Fire filled his veins as he let out an animalistic snarl. He threw himself at the rubble which had piled into the cell, climbing it into the open monastery. A fireball flew past his head, launched from a distant fire orb. He heard screams as the ball of flame met its targets. Rage, however, burned hotter inside Byleth’s chest than any fireball could.

He let out a roar of a fury that wasn’t his own, and his entire body burst from the sheer weight of it. 

* * *

Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd was one of the first to take his position on the front lines when the alarm rang out. The ghosts whispered words of hatred in his ears, the rage which he channeled through his hands, to his lance. He knew, of course, that Edelgard would not be amongst the soldiers marching today. Even still, the bodies of imperials alone got him closer to his goal, and were fine prey for a beast like himself to hunt.

When the army closed in on him, he rushed forward like the blood-hungry lion he’d grown to embody. He slashed through hordes of enemies with ease and fervor, spilling thick, warm blood onto the monastery grounds with glee. A few of the enemy soldiers landed hits on him, but he was blind to the pain. It would only be later when he realized an arrow had buried itself in his back, just missing a vital organ and sparing his life. 

The ghosts roared gleefully in his ears as he fought, cutting down imperials as quickly as they approached, but their cries became muffled as clarity painted Dimitri’s vision, only just for a moment. Even with himself and the entire army they had amassed, the imperials far outnumbered them. He faintly recalled a fire trap that Gilbert had enlisted mages to help set up, but he wasn’t sure if it would be enough.

The red haze of battle refilled his mind after several moments, and he rushed back into the battle. However, beneath the voices of the bloodthirsty ghosts that howled as he fought, he felt a voice a lot like his own - exactly like his own, specifically, from five years ago - murmured warily. He barely dodged a thrown axe that would’ve cleaved off his head, and recovered just in time to see a fleeing cleric get skewered through the middle by a mounted lancer. 

A part of him which was small and wilting, the part that he had tenderly nurtured for many years to make himself into a good leader, just to neglect in the end, urged him to call for retreat. Despite that part of him begging, he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He was a beast, not a king. He would fight like the monster he was, until he died like the monster he’d always been. 

A fireball sailed overhead, launched from a distant weapon, and crashed into the ground behind him. Several soldiers were knocked off their feet, one of which immediately getting picked up by a wyvern’s talons and ripped apart. It was maddening, the violence that was unfolding, but it was where Dimitri belonged. He let out a roar of fury and rushed back into the fray, felling soldiers left and right. He knew this was likely his last battle, but he would bring as many of these imperial dogs with him before he went down. If he couldn’t offer the dead Edelgard’s corpse, he could at least offer them all of the blood he’d spilled.

A sound louder than nearly anything Dimitri had ever head caught his attention, as well as that of every soldier on the battlefield. The crater, caused earlier by the fireball, had opened up to reveal a towering demonic beast. It roared, flashing dagger-sharp claws and teeth, and spreading a ragged pair of bat like wings from its back. In that moment, Dimitri knew it was over. He had no idea how the empire had managed to get one of their beasts behind the frontlines, but there was no way to counter an attack like this.

The beast rushed forward, and he expected to see silver and blue armor get crushed underfoot, bodies of kingdom and church soldiers alike torn into bloody pieces, and everything around him reduced to rubble. 

But something unexpected happened. The imperial soldiers began to flee. Dimitri only had a moment to wonder why before the beast was upon them. He staggered to the side, narrowly avoiding getting crushed by the beast’s massive tail as it pounced on a group of imperials, ripping into them with massive teeth and claws. Blood caked onto its leathery skin and matted mane, but the beast was an unstoppable force. It surged forward like a wave of death, slashing brutally through bodies as if they were made of nothing but sand.

Dimitri couldn’t help but laugh gleefully at the sight. The monster that Annette had insisted so strongly was human had been naught but a beast all along. A beast… just like  _ him.  _ They were birds of a feather, in a way. No matter how their peers had believed in them, they were never in defiance of their true nature.

“Retreat! Retreat, now!” The general cried out. “I’ll- I’ll try to hold it off!”

_ It’s no use, _ Dimitri mused to himself as he watched the carnage unfold. The monster cleaved the general in half with one swipe. Only a few stray soldiers actually managed to escape, the rest were reduced to nothing but gore under the demonic beast’s talons. 

Terrified kingdom soldiers emerged from where they had taken cover as the creature slowed to a halt, its entire body shaking as it breathed heavily. “...i-is it over?” Dimitri heard one solider speak.

The creature’s form reduced down in the blink of an eye, crumpling to the ground in a body that was just  _ almost  _ human, but clearly not. Rags hung loosely from its body as it sat on its knees, still struggling to catch its breath. Unable to keep himself from smirking, Dimitri strode across the gore-stained battlefield, towards his beast kin.

“I never expected the stray that was dragged in would surprise me so,” Dimitri spoke, his voice low. “However, I was wrong.”

The creature stood, wiping blood from his face with a hand. He looked Dimitri in the eyes, his golden gaze unwavering. “...I’m not a stray. I am  _ Byleth. _ ”

“I am the corpse of the former crown prince, Dimitri.” His smirk grew. “You and I are from the same cloth, both monsters wearing human skin, only showing our true bloodlust on the battlefield. Tell me, what do you fight for?”

Before Byleth could respond, his eyes rolled back into his head, and he crumpled at Dimitri’s feet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've yet to draw full beast form Byleth, though it's very similar to Miklan's form, just with the same twisting horns that Byleth's normal form has, a pair of bat wings, and a mane of long fur on its head and neck. 
> 
> My betas actually haven't gotten back to me on this chapter yet, I just got too excited to post it. I might come back and edit a few things later!


	3. Don't Speak Her Name

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The goddess weeps for an old friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the kind comments! I'm trying some new things with this chapter, which should hopefully improve the writing. Feedback is appreciated as always!

Byleth dreamed once again.

He dreamed of that broad, empty room he had seen once before, with the tall staircase leading up into the darkness above. Following his upward gaze, he took a step forward. His movements were interrupted by a sound that caught his attention, coming from behind him.

It was the sound of a girl, a young one, clearing her throat. Byleth turned to see the small figure from a previous dream, the girl who seemed so close to human but wasn’t quite. She gazed up at him with eyes that seemed as though they were thousands of years old, despite the youthful roundness of her face.

“Come closer,” she commanded calmly, “I wish to get a proper look at you.” Her voice was confident and steady, completely unlike the sobbing girl she’d been before. Even so, Byleth could see her eyes were red-rimmed from the heat of tears.

She looked him up and down, evaluating him. “I closed my eyes joined with the heart of a saint, and awoke bonded to a beast.” A touch of irritation painted her words. “I must say, I’m quite tired of being passed around from host to host. Am I not even allowed a moment to grieve?”

Byleth could hardly put words to his confusion. “Who are you? What are you talking about.”

“Who am I? That is not important right now.” She dismissed him with a wave of her hand. “It isn’t important for you to know. However, what  _ I  _ want to know from  _ you  _ is this: who created you?”

“Created me?” Byleth took a step back.  _ Right. Demonic Beasts are not born like other creatures are, but  _ created  _ by humans.  _ “I don’t remember. My memories are vague at best.

The girl huffed indignantly and looked away. “No memories? Ah, of course…” She let out a sigh and let her shoulders sag. “...I miss her,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Miss who?” Byleth took a step forward.

The girl’s eyes began to tear up once again. “...Maya.”

Then, Byleth woke up.

-

Manuela Casagranda had treated many patients and many conditions in her life. She’d treated broken bones, severe illness, deep lacerations… hell, there was even that time she’d managed to re-attach someone’s arm after it had gotten cut clean off! Sure, he’d lost some use of it, but still. To say she was experienced in her work would be putting it lightly; very little could this world throw at her would actually  _ surprise  _ her anymore.

And then the prince - the  _ crown prince of Faerghus,  _ who had been reduced to a feral animal as of late - carried in the crumpled body of a  _ demonic beast.  _ Manuela didn’t live under a rock, she’d heard the rumors and the commotion, but for the first time in a very long time, she was completely baffled by what had come through those infirmary doors.

The beast was unceremoniously dropped into the only empty infirmary bed. The prince, after making his delivery, turned to gaze down at Manuela through his one good eye. “Heal him,” he commanded roughly. Before Manuela could even form a reply, he turned sharply and stalked out of the room.

“Well, I never!” She snapped at his disappearing form. “Would it kill some of these people to say  _ please  _ for once in their lives? Ugh, now what am I supposed to do with  _ this? _ ” She stared at their body that had fallen in a heap onto the bed, bleeding from several wounds. At least it was a roughly human shape, that would help her make sense of how severe each injury was, at least, but it was still inhuman. She wasn’t sure if medicines or healing magic would work on a demonic beast.

But still, she had taken an oath as a healer, many years ago. She would do all that she could for any patients in her care, even the…  _ unique _ cases. There was just one issue, however.

The infirmary was rather busy at the moment.

The last battle - which Manuela herself was unable to be on the front lines of - had ended rather quickly. Judging by the commotion she’d heard from inside the monastery, the battle itself had only lasted an hour or so. Even still, it was enough to fill her infirmary with wounded soldiers. Blessedly, she had the help of a few other skilled healers to help the work go a bit more efficiently.

Linhardt, one of the said healers, was mending his friend Casper’s broken arm. They both paused and turned to look at what the prince had dropped off, however. It was impressive that Caspar was able to remain as nosy as he was considering how much pain he must’ve been in.

“Woah!” His eyes flew open wide. “Lin, that’s the beast from the fight! The one that was just all teeth and claws, ripping the enemy soldiers apart!”

Linhardt predictably cringed. “Ah. Unpleasant. Please hold still.”

“Unpleasant? No, it was awesome!” He grinned. “You should’ve seen it!”

Manuela could already tell that Linhardt was  _ very _ happy having not seen carnage like that. Judging by the discomfort of the other wounded soldiers, some of which who were cowering away from the unconscious beast, Caspar was alone in finding the display on the battlefield ‘awesome’. One soldier, who’s wounds were only half-healed, excused herself before her treatment was complete.

Looking at the beast now, however, Manuela could scarcely imagine him being such a force of destruction. To say he was small by beast standards would be the understatement of the century. He was even a bit on the smaller side by  _ human  _ standards. He was skinny, pitiably so, and likely only around five foot seven if standing at his full height, give or take. Now, that wasn’t short by any means - Caspar, in particular, would likely throttle her for implying such - but it was far from what one would describe as monstrous.

One of the clerics, a gentle woman named Delphine, nodded her head towards Manuela. “It’s alright, give him a hand. I’ll cover your patients for now.”

“Oh, dear, are you sure?” Manuela bit her lip.

“Of course, I’m young and spry, I’ve got plenty of magic left in me for everyone.” She gave Manuela a mischievous grin. “Now go, he needs your attention.”

The elder healer scoffed and flicked a wad of bandages at her. “Someday you’ll wish you aged as gracefully as me, little girl.” However, she took it in good humor. She knew the younger mage was just joking around. If she were being serious, there would have been a far more grave issue.

Moving on, Manuela turned her attention towards the small beast on the bed before her. Unsure of how else to approach the treatment, she held her hands above the creature’s deepest injuries and summoned familiar magic into her fingertips. Much to her relief, the wounds started stitching themselves back together.

One of the wounded soldiers, whom Linhardt had moved over to treating, let out a fearful whimper. “W-What if it goes berserk again and attacks us? Like it did on the battlefield?”

“I don’t think that’ll happen,” Delphine jumped in, defending the wounded creature. “He’ll be too exhausted from healing. You know how much it takes out of you.”

“To play Nemesis’ advocate for a moment,” Linhardt chimed in, “Demonic Beasts don’t often stop aggression just because they’re tired. In fact, they—“

“Oh, be quiet,” Manuela cut him off. “I’m trying to do my  _ job  _ here. If I heal him and he turns around to claw me, I’ll give him more than just some cuts to worry about.”

“You didn’t see it, though!” The soldier sat up suddenly, despite Linhardt’s disappointed protests. “It grew ten times that size, it was—it was a  _ nightmare!  _ It ripped them all apart, I-I never thought I’d see that much blood…”

“Uh, but it only attacked the  _ bad guys _ ,” Caspar corrected. Manuela managed not to roll her eyes and wondered to himself why he was still here. “And because he did all that, the battle ended before more of  _ our  _ guys got hurt, so…”

The panicking soldier laid back down, still murmuring fearfully. “I just… I don’t want to die as those imperials did…”

Manuela started tuning out the background conversations, focusing on her healing. Each wound stitched itself back together quite nicely, even easier than human flesh would. Maybe there were some perks to being a monster after all.

Once he was healed, Manuela grabbed some spare robes from a drawer, before realizing some alterations would need to be made for them to fit. She took a surgical blade and cut two openings for his wings, before doing her best to change his clothes while preserving his modesty. Despite her best efforts, she learned a little about Demonic Beast anatomy that day.

Then, as if he were a normal patient all along, Manuela went back to her patients, thanking Delphine for her help. Caspar was right about one thing, at least; the battle could’ve gone far worse had it gone on any longer than it had. There were numerous fatalities, but still a relatively small number considering the brutality of the fight. Only a small handful of the injured soldiers who were brought in needed more than basic treatment.

The creature stirred soon after being healed, which prompted a startled shriek from the anxious soldier. “It’s awake!” He cried, “and it’s going to kill us all!”

Linhardt silenced him quickly, flicking him on the forehead. “Stop it. You’re going to upset the other patients, and I don’t want to deal with that.” He stifled a yawn. “If we die, we die. That’s just life.”

“Linhardt, no.” Delphine shot him a disapproving glare. He just shrugged. 

Manuela left the young ones to their bickering and went to her most unique patient’s side. He rolled over onto his back, his eerie golden eyes blearily beginning to open. 

“Hello, dear,” Manuela used a soft, gentle voice to address the beast, “how are you feeling?”

“...tired,” he mumbled. The anxious soldier let out a gasp, likely not expecting the beast to be able to speak. “Everything aches… and I’m hungry.”

“Don’t eat me!” The soldier cowered. Manuela was  _ this  _ close to walking over there and punching his lights out.

The beast gave him an odd look. “Why would I do that? I want fish.” The soldier remained silent, now looking caught between terror and complete confusion.

Flayn, who had been silently treating her patients until now, nodded sagely. “The beast has wonderful taste!”

“I have a name,” he grumbled, “it’s Byleth.”

“Ah, I see.” Flayn nodded, smiling brightly. “Byleth, then, you have great taste!”

“...thank you?”

Manuela let out a sigh, managing a smile. “Well, all of that anxiety was for nothing, hm? Unless any of us are made of fish, we’re in no danger.” She shot a pointed glare at the soldier, who looked away with shame.

“You,” Byleth spoke up, facing Manuela. “Did you heal me?”

She puffed out her chest proudly. “Why, I certainly did! My name is Manuela, skilled in both the arts of healing and song.”

Byleth blinked, unsure of what to make of that. “I see. Well, thank you.”

She patted the beast on the head, messing up his dark hair. “Not a problem, dear. It’s my job. I heard you fought bravely on our side.” She also heard that he fought brutally and terrifyingly, but she wouldn’t bring that up now.

Byleth gripped the bed beneath him with his claws. “...it was bloody. I didn’t like it.”

“Well… that’s war, dear. I’m sorry.” She gave him a gentle pat on the shoulder, before moving on to another patient. “Rest up a bit, then… er, get back to wherever you’re supposed to be, alright?”

“...alright.” Byleth laid back down without any protest. Manuela wondered if he and Linhardt would get along.

However, he wouldn’t be given much time to rest, as the familiar face of Cyril poked itself into the doorway. “Um… hello? Is the ‘beast’ in here?”

Byleth let out a deep sigh. “Byleth,” he corrected, sitting back up with a frown.

“Oh, uh, Byleth. Gotcha. Well, Seteth needs to see ya. Come with me, okay?” Cyril gestured for Byleth to come and follow him.

Manuela grimaced. “Oh no, he shouldn’t be up  _ this  _ soon—“

“It’s fine,” Byleth interrupted. “I’ll go.” He peeled himself out of bed, staggering for a bit before following after Cyril.

She sighed. “Oh well, so much for that.” There was no time to dwell on Byleth’s condition now. There was work to do, and the sheets he had gotten rather blooded needed to be changed now. She had to hold back another sigh. There was just  _ so  _ much to do today.  _ Can’t the Empire just leave us alone? _

The former Empire citizen let out a quiet, bitter chuckle, and she knew that was far too much to ask.

She’d been Edelgard’s teacher, after all.

-

Seteth found himself pacing in the audience chamber, his mind swirling with questions and uncertainties. On one hand, he’d seen the carnage from atop his wyvern. He knew that this beast — who had apparently been given a name:  _ Byleth _ — was capable of horrific things, horrendous acts that he couldn’t condone in good faith. But, he’d also seen that the beast found on their side, on the side of the Kingdom and the Church, and won them the day.

_ Could such power really be safely contained? Let alone wielded for our cause?  _ Seteth furrowed his brow, unable to come to a conclusion that felt  _ right.  _ A small part of him wished that the Archbishop were still here, as he knew her and trusted her judgment… but he also felt a knot in his stomach even considering that possibility. She was wise, and more often than not was level-headed, but he worried that something like this, a  _ beast  _ within her monastery, would have set something off in her. Thinking on it now, Seteth figured that Rhea would’ve chosen to put the beast down.

Perhaps that was the right answer in the end; it just felt  _ wrong  _ to do so. It felt cruel to put this ‘Byleth’ to the axe when he hadn’t committed any crimes against the Church or her people. In fact, Byleth had stormed into action on  _ behalf  _ of the Church, despite having no reason to put his life in danger like so. 

He just didn’t  _ know  _ what to do, and that frustrated him more than anything else. He’d lived for countless years, lived countless lives, and yet the wisdom he needed evaded him still.

“Seteth? I brought him, just like you asked.” Cyril’s familiar voice at the entrance of the chamber caught his attention, and he turned to face the boy.

Beside him stood the beast —  _ Byleth,  _ he reminded himself — that had been the subject of his worries. He’d gotten a glimpse of him when he was first brought in, and seen his true towering form on the battlefield, but seeing him now…

_ Something felt familiar. _

He shook his head to clear his thoughts, collecting himself to address Byleth. “There you are. Come, I need to speak with you.” He nodded to Cyril. “You are dismissed. Thank you.”

Cyril nodded back. “No problem. I’ve gotta lot of work to do, so I’m gonna get back to that now. See ya.” With that, he disappeared around the corner.

Byleth approached, his clawed feet softly scraping against the polished floor. “You sent for me?” He tilted his head to the side curiously.

“I did,” Seteth began. “My initial plan was, admittedly, to keep you in your cell until we could be sure that you were safe to have loose around the monastery. However, with… the recent developments, it is apparent that plan may not be effective.” He eyed Byleth evenly as he spoke. “But I have to ask, we locked you in that cell, and you clearly had the strength to escape at any time. Yet, you chose not to. Why is that?”

Byleth simply shrugged. “I felt no need to. I was fed and warm.” He paused. “I… also felt as though breaking out would frighten the humans living here.”

_ Ah.  _ Seteth looked away, allowing the silence to stretch a few moments as he thought of what to say next. “I see. That is admirable. I have another question for you, if you wouldn’t mind.” He pulled his gaze back to where it matched Byleth’s. “You fought for us, and fought well, despite the danger and injuries you surely had sustained. Being that you’ve been in our care for only a few days now, why take to battle in service of our cause?”

The silence stretched further, this time as Byleth considered his words. “I’m not sure,” he replied at last, “I simply feel a sense of… loyalty. An attachment.” He paused once again. “I feel as though I know this place.”

Those words served to surprise Seteth. “You believe you know this place? I assume you mean the monastery, correct?” Byleth nodded, and so he continued. “How? Do you recall when you’ve been here before?”

Another moment of silence passes, Byleth clearly searching for words. “I don’t. My memories from behind mere moons ago are vague at best. I’d never even thought about where I was before then until now. Knowing the truth hadn’t been a priority when I had lived on my own. But now…”

He trailed off and remained silent, which Seteth took as an opportunity to speak again. “Yet another question for you, then. If I were to allow you to freely roam the monastery — though you would not be permitted to leave without permission and guidance — I want your word, an absolute promise before the Goddess that watches over this land, that you will fight for our side only, and not lay a claw on your allies.”

Seteth expected Byleth to hesitate, to think on those words, but the beast looked him in the eyes without a single moment’s pause. “I will. Even though I cannot recall why, I know with certainty that I must.”

“Well then. You would best keep to your word. I will be keeping a close eye on you, as will others. Another question, if you would; you are able to change shape into a much more powerful form. Is this a transformation you can control?”

Byleth nodded. “Yes. It’s an exhausting form to maintain, so I only transform when it is absolutely necessary.”

“Good. Only use it on the battlefield. It would be far too dangerous to shift inside of the monastery.” Seteth paused for a moment, hesitating and wondering if he should mention his next thought or not. It wasn’t necessarily a secret in itself, more that the reasons  _ why  _ were. “Speaking of which, we… have armor that is meant for shape-shifters. It is enchanted to blend and shift around your other form, so you do not tear through your clothes when you change. Before the next battle, I will ensure you are fitted with such armor.”

Byleth perked up. “There are others, then? Who can change shape?

_ Yes. There are.  _ Seteth held his tongue, conscious of a power he hadn’t used in a great many years as it reverberated within his bones. However, he snuffed the power out quickly, keeping it under control. “Not in a long, long time, however the knowledge needed to create such equipment is still in the Church’s possession.”

Byleth nodded, and Seteth internally sighed with relief that he accepted that explanation without question. “I see.” A pause. “While I’m here, there’s something I’d like to ask.”

That was a surprise. Seteth eyed him, raising a brow. “Oh? Ask away. I will see if it is something I can answer.”

Byleth was quiet for a moment, before finally speaking. “Who is  _ Maya?” _

-

Maya Eisner stood before the Archbishop as she fretted over a loose button on her robes. She was one of scarce few people that got to see Rhea in this manner, with her walls lowered and her guard relaxed. Even still, Maya gently chuckled and pushed her hand away. “Rhea,” she scolded softly, “it’s fine. I’m going to be teaching, not coronating a king. They won’t notice a single button.”

Rhea sighed, reluctantly pulling away. “Yes, yes… you’re quite right. But I simply cannot help but fret over you, my dear. You are absolutely certain this is the path you would like to take? There may be times where you must take the battlefield alongside your students.”

“This is what I’ve wanted for a very long time,” Maya assured her. “Ever since I discovered I couldn’t have a child of my own flesh and blood with Jeralt, I realized that I could care for something else instead. I want to raise a new generation of students with love and guidance.”

“You have always had such a kind heart, Maya.” Rhea gently touched her cheek. “You have my blessing, then. Always.”

“Thank you,” she murmured, before daring to add another word for only Rhea to hear, “mother.”

Maya and Rhea shared a warm embrace, before the priestess went off to her new classroom, to meet her Lions. The air was warm and light as the sun illuminated a courtyard filled with new students. They laughed and socialized amongst one another, regardless of their land of origin. It was a day of peace and joy for all.

The land wouldn’t know war for another year.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you need help picturing Maya, she's essentially an older F!Byleth. I may draw her eventually.


	4. As Above and So Below

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Byleth settles into life at the monastery in his own way.

Sylvain Jose Gautier hated Demonic Beasts.

And no, it had nothing to do with his dead brother, who had gruesomely transformed into one before his very eyes. He was an asshole and absolutely no part of Sylvain had ever, for a second, grieved for him. There were also absolutely  _ no  _ repressed feelings of anguish or trauma from the experience of having to kill his own brother. That would be stupid. Sylvain was everyone’s goofy, flirty friend, and so he was  _ fine  _ and had no deeper troubles besides keeping all the ladies happy. His grudge against Demonic Beasts wasn’t a part of any deeper emotion than just plain not liking them.

(Quite a few of the above statements are false, though I’m sure you already knew that.)

The good thing about hating monsters is that, in his line of work, he gets to skewer a lot of them on the end of his lance. There was also no guilt involved, as they weren’t really  _ alive  _ in the same way people were. Not that he feels guilt for  _ any _ slain enemies. Again, Sylvain is fine and has no emotional turmoil bubbling inside of him, waiting for the one day it’ll finally spill over and leave himself and everyone close to him horribly burned. That’s never going to happen, because, and he cannot stress this enough, he is  _ fine. _

(Not the most convincing, is he?)

But just maybe he felt a little tiny bit upset when he stepped out of the dining hall after sharing lunch with his comrades and saw a demonic beast just… sitting on the dock. He knew the beast was here, of course. Hells, he’d been on the front lines himself, watching it tear the imperial army apart! He just figured it was the Church army’s new toy, and that it would go right back into its cage when they were done with it. No, no, it definitely wouldn’t be allowed to just  _ roam loose,  _ right?

(Some might argue that he himself shouldn’t be allowed to roam loose, but we digress.)

He wasn’t the only one who was unsure about this creature. The residents of the monastery eyed it warily as they passed by, and the fishkeeper was clutching a. Dagger around his belt as if it was the only thing keeping him tethered to the earth. The monster itself was completely oblivious to the world around him, kneeling on the edge of the dock and peering into the water. Its tail was flicking back and forth like that of a curious cat, and its neatly-folded wings were twitching as if its instincts were nudging it to fly.

Sylvain hated it. So, he did what he always did around people and things he hated; he pulled a smile to his lips and walked up to the creature, pausing just a few feet behind it. It didn’t seem to notice him, as it was too focused on intently staring into the pond, so he opened his mouth to speak and get its attention. However, before even the ghost of a single word left his mouth, the beast dove into the water. Sylvain had the gift of rarely being left speechless, always with just the right witty comment for any situation, but he really had no words this time.

The beast resurfaced a moment later with a large fish hanging from its mouth, squirming uselessly. It peered up curiously, finally noticing Sylvain. Looking at the creature’s face, it kind of looked like a guy his own age, just painted with a layer of monster-y gunk. He could at least see why  _ some  _ people were sympathetic. Under the patchy scales and stuff, he was almost kinda cute-looking.

“You know there are fishing poles, right? You don’t have to fish like that.” Sylvain let out a friendly chuckle.

The creature climbed out of the water and onto the dock, shaking water out of his wings. He dropped the fish, quickly jamming a claw into its eye and ending its life.  _ How brutal. _ “I know,” the creature replied evenly, “I tried to use one.”

_ So he  _ can  _ talk. Noted.  _ “Oh? And how did that go?”

He started to dry himself by wringing water out of his clothes. “A fish bit the hook and pulled. I wasn’t ready for it, so I fell in. I figured since I was already soaked, I might as well fish the way I’m used to.

“Oh, huh. Can’t argue with that.”  _ The way he’s used to… I bet this guy’s been living more feral than Dimitri has been.  _ “So, is that your lunch?”

“Lunch?” He glanced around. “...right. Humans have decided upon meal times. Odd.” He picked up the fish and bit into it raw as if it were an apple plucked from a tree. Sylvain couldn’t help but cringe at the sight. “No,” the creature replied, in between crunching fish bones under his jagged teeth. “I’m eating it because I’m stressed.”

_ That  _ was honesty he wasn’t expecting. “Uh-huh. Stressed?” He recalled the time he had eaten a quarter of his weight in ice cream as a teen because Felix had yelled at him harsher than usual. He understood. “Right, right. What’s someone like you got to be stressed about?”

The creature paused the conversation in order to eat the entire fish whole in a single gruesome display. Once he was done, he shook the remaining water off of himself as a wet dog would. Some water splashed onto Sylvain, as well as (much to his disgust) bits of fish gore and scales.  _ Gross. _ “Nothing important. Just stress.”

Sylvain just barely managed not to gag after being in the splash zone for fish guts (though, not gagging was something he was actually rather good at,  _ wink _ ). “So, nothing important, but enough to make you catch and eat an entire raw fish?”

“...what? Is that odd?” The creature cocked his head to the side. “Ah, right. Humans cook the fish first, I forgot.” He nodded to himself, all civilized as if his face and hands weren’t soaked red from that poor, poor fish. “Cooked fish does taste better, yes, but I don’t need it to be prepared like that. I can really eat anything.”

An idea pops into Sylvain’s head. “Anything?”

“I’ve yet to find something that poisons me, and I’ve… eaten a lot of strange things.” He licked the blood off of his fingers idly as he spoke, using a long, lizard-like tongue.

_ Heh. _

_ Heheheheh. _

Sylvain winked. “Well then, babe, if you don’t mind coming back to my room, I’ve got something  _ else  _ you can eat.”

As usual, when Sylvain encounters something that disgusts him, he tries to sleep with it. Such is life for the man who lives like he’s trying to die at all times. There is likely some commentary to be made here about the tragic nature of his self-destructive habits, but for now, there is nothing but disappointment in the path he has taken in life.

The creature narrowed its eyes. “My name is not ‘babe’, it is Byleth. Do you have food in your room or something? I’m not particularly hungry. I just ate, as you know.”

_ Oh noooo, he’s innocent.  _ “Apologies, Byleth~! My name’s Sylvain. Anyways, well… it’s actually not  _ that  _ kind of eating… if you want, I can show you!” He gave a sultry wink.

Meanwhile, the fishkeeper, who was several feet away, looked like an old nun who was watching someone pleasure themselves with a statue of Saint Cethleann.  _ That  _ was the specific level of horror on his face. Of course, not like Sylvain would know personally or anything, but…

(He doesn’t. He would love to imply that he did, just to see the look of horror on everyone’s faces, but he’s yet to fall that far.)

“Eating, but… not eating?” Byleth looked so, so confused. “I don’t get it. Why are you closing one of your eyes?”

Sylvain felt like he hit a brick wall. He’d flirted with a great many people, but few had ever come close to being this  _ dense _ . It was time to pull out all the stops. No more subtlety, no more innuendo. He was going to form his words very, very directly.

“It’s a sex thing, Byleth. Y’know, like oral sex.” He threw an arm around the creature’s shoulders. “Are you in?”

Byleth stared at him blankly for several moments, as if processing what Sylvain had said. “...ah. I see.” Another pause and Sylvain let himself grin.  _ Is he considering it? _ Never mind that Sylvain hadn’t given any thought to what would happen next if Byleth actually did say yes. He had no idea what Demonic Beast anatomy was like, and part of him almost didn’t want to know. Of course, he didn’t think about that. For what an intelligent person he truly was, Sylvain rarely  _ thought  _ about anything before he simply went ahead and did it.

“That’s disgusting,” Byleth said bluntly, before throwing Sylvain into the water as if he weighed no more than a kitten.

_ Oh well,  _ he thought as he soared through the air,  _ I tried. _

-

Byleth had a reason to be stressed that day, and it had everything to do with the question he’d proposed to Seteth just a few days prior. It’d seemed like such a simple, straightforward question, but apparently wasn’t quite so.  _ Apparently,  _ it wasn’t something he was going to get an easy answer to.

“Who’s Maya?” He had asked, his tone even.

Seteth flinched as if Byleth had run up and clawed him open. His expression quickly cycled through what Byleth assumed was surprise, confusion, horror, frustration, and grief. Then, he pointedly turned around, refusing to look at Byleth directly.

“Where did you hear that name?” His tone was sharp and prickly.

Byleth may not yet be experienced in the ways of socialization, but he was already getting the feeling that admitting he had the ethereal form of a little girl in his head was not the right thing to do. “I don’t remember,” he lied. “I think I just heard it from someone around the monastery.”

He could tell that Seteth was skeptical, but also that he couldn’t think of a rebuttal that proved Byleth was being dishonest. “I see, well, you have asked one of the few questions I cannot answer.” He sighed, and Byleth noticed how his shoulders sagged. “Maya was… someone many of those living here knew well and cared for deeply. But she is gone now. I recommend you don’t bring her up, as it is still a tender wound for many.”

_ Maya is dead? _ He thought about that realization for a moment.  _ It makes sense, then, why the little girl is grieving for her. They must have been close.  _ He decided to save the question of how they could’ve known each other for another time. “Alright. I won’t ask anyone else about her.”

Seteth finally turned to face Byleth again, his face an unreadable statue. “Good. It is best to leave the past behind us. Now then…” He was clearly hasty to change the subject. “There is the matter of where you will live, now that you do not need to be treated like a prisoner. I imagine you are rather exhausted from healing your injuries and using your more powerful form. The dormitories of past students remain relatively untouched now, so I’ll have someone escort you to a room that is unoccupied. You have free reign over the monastery, but I must remind you that any aggression towards the residents of Garreg Mach will not be tolerated, understood?”

Byleth nodded. “Understood.” He didn’t want to hurt them, anyway, so why would he? It was only the soldiers in red that he felt that innate hatred for.

Seteth had then called in a young woman to escort him to his new living quarters — named Petra, apparently — but Byleth couldn’t shake an odd feeling in his chest.  _ Frustration,  _ he felt. He knew Seteth was hiding something from him —  _ but why? _ What was it about this ‘Maya’ person that he wasn’t allowed to know?

Even when he arrived at his room, noting it was nearly the exact same as the one he saw in the dream with the mirror, he couldn’t shake the feeling. Even as he started making himself comfortable, his foul mood wouldn’t dissipate. He’d never felt irritation like this before coming to the monastery, so why was he feeling it now?

The room was filled with dust and old, discarded books. He tried to read them, but his reading skills were incredibly poor. Though speaking had come naturally to him, it seemed that reading had not. All he could glean from the books were that they must’ve belonged to someone named Ferdinand.

He asked Petra if she knew who ‘Ferdinand’ was, but she dodged the question. “Ferdinand was… someone I had once been knowing,” she’d replied reluctantly, speaking in her odd manner. “I am no longer knowing him. Many apologies for not saying more.”

Then Byleth was stuck figuring out what  _ that  _ meant, which made him even more frustrated. Why can’t humans just say things  _ clearly? _ Why did they have to dodge questions and speak in such incomprehensible riddles? He just wanted to meet someone who would tell him exactly what they were thinking, without hesitating to mull over their own emotions on the matter. That sounded far less frustrating.

He tried to wait out the feeling, let it pass on his own, but he couldn’t manage it. The feeling just kept growing over the next few days until he  _ had  _ to find an outlet for it. Hunting some fish had actually been helping. Maybe that was the trick to handling these feelings — making himself busy and being active. He filed that knowledge away for the future, should humans continue to be vague grate on his nerves.

Of course, he then found himself a fool when he finally met someone who  _ was  _ speaking their mind, at least in the most frustrating manner. That human, Sylvain, had proposed something vile to him without the faintest hint of shame. That had re-ignited all of Byleth’s frustration, and despite himself, he had thrown the human into the fishing pond.

He wasn’t sure if he regretted it.

The concept of ‘sex’ was something Byleth was only vaguely familiar with. He’d witnessed it, a few times, between people in the woods who thought they were alone. Though the concept did make him a bit curious, he’d left them to their own business. After all, he got the impression it was an act that they didn’t want a creature in the trees to watch. He wasn’t sure if it was something he ever wanted to try himself, but he was at least certain he didn’t want to engage with  _ Sylvain  _ in that manner. He already didn’t like that one.

Regret started to set in when he was dragged back up to Seteth’s office by a rather cross Petra, who had apparently been keeping watch over him. She had scolded him the whole way up, occasionally slipping into a language he didn’t understand. He hadn’t hated the cell he was in, but his room was so much  _ nicer, _ and he really enjoyed exploring the monastery. He didn’t want to lose those privileges now.

To his surprise, upon hearing what had transpired, Seteth simply sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “You would not be the first, and you certainly will not be the last.” With that, he was dismissed without punishment. A bit embarrassed that she had reacted so strongly about nothing, Petra apologized to Byleth profusely, but he didn’t really care. She warned him that throwing people into bodies of water was generally considered rude in human society.

Note to self: Do not throw people into ponds. Unless it is Sylvain. In that case, apparently, nobody cares.

He decided to let his curiosity rest after that. He wanted so badly to know what was happening with him, who ‘Maya’ and the ethereal girl were, but he knew answers wouldn’t come quickly or easily. He tried to make his peace with that and meditated on the idea that the truth was not prey that would flee his grasp, but a goal he would get ever closer towards.

He still couldn’t help but wonder who in the hells ‘Ferdinand’ was, though.

-

Annette Fantine Dominic was happiest with plenty to do and more than enough to keep her busy. Her mind was always racing like a hyper-energetic rabbit, and so she was most content when her focus was completely occupied. She always liked to keep moving and going, so sitting still could sometimes be a challenge.

Annette was second-happiest when having tea with Mercedes, the only time she found that she could get her brain to relax.

They always tried to make time for each other, even with the war driving a wedge between most people. Mercedes was just too important to her for Annette to let that get in the way. They had their fights, of course, (they’d recently had a nasty one about a shopping trip gone awry) but they always made up in the end. That’s what being friends was all about, after all.

It also really helped that Mercedes was an excellent baker, and Annette was a total sweet-tooth. But, really, that was  _ entirely  _ secondary to the whole ‘deep friendship’ thing.

Annette sipped some sweet apple tea — a long-time favorite, how considerate of Mercie to remember — and chewed on a still-warm chocolate chip cookie. “Mmmm mmm! Delicious as always, Mercie. You always know how to make a girl happy!”

Mercedes chuckled in her soft, bell-like manner that always made Annette feel like she was at home. “I’m so glad you like it. Only the best for you, after all.” Her tone was light, but Annette could tell there was some concern under the surface. After all, she’d known Mercedes long enough to tell when something was on her mind.

Annette had actually been wounded in the last battle, and rather badly at that. Mercedes had been fretting over her for hours, draining every ounce of her magic energy into sealing her injuries back together. She went above and beyond what healers often did, and because of her effort, Annette had made a full recovery very quickly. The thought of her best friend working so hard to save her made her chest feel warm.

Of course, healing magic takes a lot out of both parties, the recipient especially. She’d been bedridden for an entire day and a half and was too exhausted to even feel frustrated about not being able to get up and be productive. Mercedes had cared for her dutifully, checking in on her often and bringing her food and water to get her strength up. She put in all the extra effort, even though she must’ve been exhausted as well. Because of her, Annette was able to be up and walking around much sooner than she thought she would be able to — though, of course, she still had to be careful and take it a little easier than normal.

Mercedes would worry though, as that’s just who she was. “I’m so glad you’re doing better,” she admitted. “You were so pale when they brought you in, I nearly fainted from worry.”

Annette couldn’t help but feel apologetic, even though she knew it wasn’t necessary. “I’m sorry for worrying you. I’m usually better at not taking those nasty hits, but that soldier kinda just snuck up on me in all the chaos… I’m okay, though! And It’s all thanks to you!” She flashed a bright smile, hoping to reassure her friend. “You’re such an amazing healer, Mercie. I was in great hands.”

“Oh, Annie. You’re too much.” Mercedes blushed a bit, and Annette felt relief to see that she was lightening up. “But it was my pleasure. Healing others is my passion, and on top of that, you’re such a dear friend that I couldn’t bear to not do all that I could for you.”

“Yeah, but you went above and beyond.” Annette giggled, feeling more warmth in her chest as she thought about how Mercedes had cared for her as she rested. However, recalling that made her remember something else. “Oh, right. That reminds me; Mercie, did you borrow a book from my room?”

Mercedes sipped her tea, furrowing her brow a bit in confusion. “A book? No, I didn’t. Why did you ask? Did you lose something?”

Annette sighed. “Well, the other day, Linhardt practically forced a book on crestology into my hands, and so I’ve been reading it little by little. It’s not  _ really  _ my favorite subject, but he actually looked passionate about something for once, so I couldn’t just say no to him…” She idly stirred her tea as she spoke. “I had it on my bedside table, so I could read it whenever I was awake enough as I recovered, but I swear it disappeared after you brought me that delicious soup. I remember, because the soup was so good.” She giggled.

Mercedes, however, did not share her enthusiasm. “Um, Annie? Are you sure? I don’t remember making you any soup…”

_ Wait, what? _ Annette’s smile fell. “You didn’t? No, you definitely did, I’m so sure I remember…”

“Maybe it was someone else? I know Ashe was very worried about you, and he’s a good cook too…” Mercedes pursed her lips, concern in her eyes.

_ No,  _ Annette thought to herself,  _ I’m sure it was you…! _ But, she didn’t want to concern her friend any more than she had already. She chuckled lightly, pushing her uncertainty away. “Oh, you must be right. Sorry, I was so tired that everything just kinda blended together! I don’t think I even processed a single page of that book…”

Mercedes relaxed and let out a giggle. “So tired that you mixed me up with Ashe? I suppose he  _ is  _ pretty enough.”

That got a more genuine laugh out of Annette. “You think Ashe is pretty? Well, okay. I guess that’s fair. He  _ is  _ pretty.”

Yet, even as the conversation returned to normal, Annette’s anxieties chewed at the back of her mind. She  _ knew  _ Mercedes had brought her that soup. She knew, because Mercedes had kissed her ever so softly on the forehead, and in that moment, all Annette could feel was her heart pounding in her chest, and the smell of warm herbs.

-

A pale hand turns a page in a well-loved book.

“In-ter-est-ing,” the voice sing-songs, letting each syllable hang in the air.

There was nothing in the book the reader didn’t already know, but it helped to solidify a theory they’ve held for a rather long while.

A hand hesitates over a specific page.

“Now, this is new…”

Blood that runs cold, reflecting the pale moon. Timeless, eternity. A crest of life unending. The book calls it but a legend, and yet…

The reader grins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing Sylvain shenanigans is fun.


	5. The Valley

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Byleth sees the world rather simply.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, obviously I have the greater plot of this fic already planned out. However, how we get there (which POVs we see, little subplots, etc etc) is still very much up in the air. That being said, I invite you all to make suggestions for what you want to see! Like certain POVs you'd like me to write about, relationships you want to see a focus on, and stuff like that. Request away! The worst that could happen is that I just don't do it, so you've got nothing to lose.

Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd still liked visiting the greenhouse, even after everything that had happened. He only visited it when it was empty, not caring for the way others stared. When he stood in the broad, open room, with the warmth of filtered sunshine and the smell of growth and new life, he felt like maybe he'd climbed out of his own grave, and was back to living again.

He never stayed for too long. Inevitably, the voices would return and snarl in his ears for wasting time with pleasantries he no longer deserved. Every time he left, he would curse under his breath and vow to never return, but he always found himself back there somehow. It was the one place where he could enjoy the silence, as the ghosts were slow to follow him there.

The greenhouse had seemed empty when he walked in, but upon entering, he noticed he wasn't alone. Crouched at the edge of the flowerbed was the monastery's other resident beast; Byleth. He was intently focused on something Dimitri couldn't see, having not even noticed the prince entered.

Dimitri was about to turn and leave when Byleth's elongated ears twitched, and he finally noticed him. He turned and looked over at Dimitri, expression as neutral and calm as it had always been. This frustrated Dimitri quite a bit; he knew he and Byleth were one and the same, monsters wearing human skin, and yet outside of battle he managed to act so calm.  _ Why? Why do you control your bloodlust so well? _

"...come here," Byleth finally spoke, flicking his tail in a beckoning gesture.

Dimitri scowled. "Why." He didn't even bother to phrase it like a question.

Byleth offered a vague shrug. "Just look."

He let out a scoff and considered just leaving. However, the serenity of the greenhouse tempered his mood, and he decided to humor his fellow monster for just a moment. "Fine," he replied bluntly, kneeling down to see just what Byleth needed to show him.

Cupped in Byleth's claws was... a frog. It was splotched dark blue and black, blinking its bulbous eyes up at Dimitri curiously. It let out a low 'ribbit' sound, seemingly taking no issue in being held by a Demonic Beast.

Dimitri narrowed his eyes. "Why are you showing me this? It's a frog."

"Exactly," Byleth said, not taking his eyes off of the frog. "It's a frog. I found it here." It let out another low 'ribbit'. "I like it."

"This is what you had to show me?" Dimitri suddenly felt like he was wasting his time. "A  _ frog?" _

"Yes," Byleth replied simply. "It's a nice frog, so I wanted to show you. Do you like it?"

Of course he didn't like it. It was just some slimy animal. However, something nudged at the corner of his mind; a distant, fuzzy memory of a woman in the greenhouse, gently holding something in her hands.

_ "Look, your highness," _ she spoke softly, showing her cupped hands to him,  _ "I just found it among the flowers, isn't it adorable?" _

He'd laughed then. He'd laughed because those were the days when he actually knew  _ how _ . His professor was such an odd woman, yet she was sweet and kind to everyone she met. She became like family to him when he had known none.

But now she's gone.

"...it's a frog. I don't care." He stood abruptly. "Do what you want."

He ignored the brief flash of hurt crossing Byleth's expression and turned to leave the greenhouse. He didn't have time for any of this, not while the dead still suffered so horribly. It mattered little how their voices tormented him to hear, he had to listen to their pleas. If he wouldn't lend them his ear, then no one would, and they would never be allowed to rest.

And yet, no matter how he strained to listen, it took quite some time for the voices to return.

-

Linhardt von Hevring was never lending a book to anyone ever again.

Yes, he could hardly  _ stay _ mad at Annette - being mad was exhausting after all, and she had apologized so earnestly - but even if he forgave her, he had learned a valuable lesson. The tome he had lent her was one that had puzzled even him, and half of the reason why he gave it to her was that he wanted her opinion. Yes, she was loud and buzzed with energy Linhardt could hardly relate to, but he would be a fool not to see how intelligent she was. Perhaps a fresh pair of eyes was all he needed to figure out the lingering mysteries, and that meant he could get research done  _ while  _ he napped. What a genius idea.

Until, of course, she'd gone and lost the book. It seemed she really tried to look for it, asking  _ everyone _ if they knew where it was, but she simply couldn't find it.  _ Oh well _ . It was frustrating as all hells, but Linhardt wouldn't waste his energy on it. He could at least remember the contents well, even if it was a shame to no longer have the source.

Another thing that helped him lift his mood was the monastery's resident scientific mystery: Byleth. Demonic Beasts had always existed on the fringe of his interests, due to their link with Crestology, but he'd never been able to study one up-close. They were too savage and unpredictable, and clashing with one was always far too bloody for his tastes. He'd always wished there was a way to study one, but alas.

However, he need to wish no more. Over the past week or so that the beast had been among their ranks, Linhardt had been subtly trying to corner him for study. It was amazing how slippery and hard to find a creature that stood out  _ that _ much would be. It also didn't help that Petra wouldn't tell him what dorm he'd taken up residence in.

"You are seeing him like a mouse in a lab. I am thinking that is rather cruel." She had frowned and gotten a pitying look in her eyes, and Linhardt couldn't get any further than that. Why did _ everyone _ have to get in the way of science?

He'd also tried to enlist Caspar's help, which had only ended up scaring the creature away. He'd spotted him perched on the stables - and he didn't bother wondering how he'd gotten up there, that wasn't his business - but just as he was about to approach, Caspar's distinct battle-cry had ripped through the air. His wild companion scaled the stables and tackled Byleth off of the roof.

"There you are, I gotcha!" Caspar struggled to wrestle the squirming beast to the ground, a battle which he eventually and inevitably lost. Byleth wriggled free of his grip and ran off with a shriek of terror. Linhardt then informed a downtrodden Caspar that his services were really no longer needed.

However, he finally,  _ finally _ managed to corner Byleth in the gardens. He was sunbathing like a cat, strewn across a table (And Linhardt could really respect that). Even more fortunately, his presence seemed to have chased away any other people who might have been milling about the area. At last, he could conduct some experimentation.

First, obviously, he needed a blood sample. He was always prepared, as any scientist ought to be, and had his tools ready. A thin, clean knife to draw the blood, and a vial to catch it. All he needed was a  _ single _ drop for his experiments, but... well, more would be nice. Byleth hardly stirred in his sleep as Linhardt approached him, going for the exposed flesh on his calf. His legs were digitigrade, like an animal's.  _ How odd. _

He knelt down, positioning himself carefully and focusing. This would likely wake Byleth up, so he had only a few split-seconds to act before the creature likely sprung into action and fled, just like when Caspar had attacked it. From his observations, Byleth was a bit on the timid side.

Gently,  _ carefully _ , with a delicate surgeon's precision, Linhardt pressed the thin knife into Byleth's skin, catching several droplets of blood into the vial.  _ Perfect. _

As predicted, a moment later, Byleth awoke with a start, panicking and stumbling off of the table. Linhardt didn't mind, however. A hair sample would've been nice too, but if he just found out which dorm the creature had been holed up in, that would be easy to find. Blood was more important, anyways. He could learn so much from that. Just the idea of making a discovery about the nature of demonic beasts made his heart swell.

Paying no mind to the panicking beast, Linhardt observed the blood in the afternoon light. It was such a deep, dark red that it seemed jet black unless illuminated. Linhardt narrowed his eyes, looking a little closer. Something inside the blood... sparkled. Ever so slightly, there were flashes of green shine, like emerald dust had been stirred in with Byleth's blood.

"Did you just... stab me?" Linhardt looked over, honestly a bit surprised that Byleth was still here. The beast had collected himself, now looking at Linhardt with an expression that was a bit difficult to read. "Why did you do that? I was so comfortable."

Linhardt felt just a bit sympathetic. He'd been woken up constantly in class back in his academy days by Edelgard. He'd switched classes to get away from her, just to find that Dimitri was no better. He wouldn't be surprised to find out the two were somehow related, honestly. Now, he was the one doing the rude awakening.  _ How far I have fallen... Tragic. _

"Oh, well, I just needed some of your blood, see. Some hair too, if you don't mind." Since Byleth hadn't fled, Linhardt figured he might as well ask the creature a few questions and make some requests. Why not? The worst that could happen is that Byleth says no.

Byleth was silent for several moments. "If you needed my blood, you could have waited until I was awake and asked." He plucked a hair from the back of his head and handed it over. "Why do you need these things? Are you studying me?"

"Precisely." Linhardt nodded his head. "I'm a scientist, see. I've never gotten to research a demonic beast before, as... well, they usually try to bite my head off when I get this close. This is a unique opportunity."

Now, whenever Linhardt was this honest about his intentions, the outcome of the situation... varied. Usually, he gets a response of discomfort or disgust. Tragically, it seems that most people are uncomfortable with the idea of being studied. Thank the Goddess, however, Byleth seemed to understand. "...alright. Ask next time. I don't mind being studied, but I do mind being woken up."

_ We have so much in common... _

Linhardt got a fresh vial for the strands of hair, placing both samples carefully into slots on his pouch. "Well, then I'll be off to run some experiments. Next time we run into each other, I'll have plenty of questions for you." He couldn't help but smirk a bit. "Since you said you're fine with being studied, that won't be a problem, yes?"

Byleth sighed, as if only just now realizing what he had signed up for. "...that's fine."

"Don't hide from me now. I'll share my research with you, of course. I'm sure you want to know more about yourself." Linhardt stifled a yawn. As these samples processed, it'd be the perfect time for a nap. 

Meanwhile, Byleth suddenly looked far more interested. "Tell me anything you find," he replied quickly. Curiosity was brimming from every inch of his skin. 

"Of course, well," another yawn, "I have to go. Good-bye."

Linhardt headed back to his dorm, which he had converted into his own little lab (by 'borrowing' some research materials and devices from around the monastery,  _ of course _ he'll return them... when he's done) to process the precious samples.

-

Seteth wasn't really sure if he considered himself a leader. Of course, he had plenty of experience and wisdom that  _ could _ make him a good leader, it was just at times that he felt it was a role he didn't belong in. He was more than happy to lend his aid to another, and assist them in their tasks, but to take on the role of a true  _ leader _ , the figurehead of such an important movement, it felt... ill-fitting.

However, with Rhea missing, and the prince of Faerghus in a distorted state, Seteth found himself leading the combined Church and Kingdom army. He knew, logically, that he was good at it, and that the army was doing well under his command, but it felt simply  _ wrong _ . He just didn't feel like the type that was meant for this kind of role.

But, any task put before him was one worth doing  _ right _ , and so he put his all into the fight against the Empire. There was no-one else who could.

Once recovered from the sudden attack of Garreg Mach, Seteth called together his most trusted allies to a council to decide their next action. As always, he extended an invitation to Dimitri, but unsurprisingly he did not arrive. 

Shamir arrived first, taking a seat beside him. He hadn't spoken much to the quiet assassin of the knights until recently but found that she was a trusted ally. She was brilliant with strategy and ruthless in battle, but level-headed enough to not rush into unneeded battle. With the hotheaded individuals in the army like Manuela, Caspar, and Catherine, it was a relief to work alongside someone who could keep their cool.

Just as he was thinking of them both, Manuela and Catherine arrived, idly chatting to one another. Hanneman was a few feet behind them, looking irritated about something (almost definitely relating to Manuela's presence). Soon after, Sylvain entered with a reluctant-looking Felix. In a steady stream, the rest of the Blue Lions filtered in, soon followed by the Empire recruits; Caspar, Petra, and Linhardt.

Seteth had been unsure about them after they had shown up for the 'promised meeting' the Blue Lions class had decided upon many years ago. He worried that they were traitors or spies, or perhaps would have reservations about fighting their former allies. However, he found that all three of them were loyal and valued. 

_ Maya knew what she was doing when she invited them to her class. _

Gilbert was last, sinking into a seat far away from his daughter's. Gilbert was wise, yes, but Seteth had lost much respect for him after learning of the truth of his association with Annette. He knew he wasn't the perfect father, and at times he hovered too closely over Flayn's shoulder, but he would never in his life abandon her. He valued the knight's input but worried what a man so obsessed with ideals that he would abandon his family for them would try to suggest an army do.

Once all were seated, Seteth cleared his throat and spoke up. "As you all know, the Empire is now aware of our location. This was inevitable, of course, but we will need to act soon or risk being made vulnerable." He paused for a moment, wanting to collect his words before speaking them. "We did, however, send a very clear message with our victory. The Empire will not send another assault lightly. When they do - and I say 'when', not 'if' - they will send their finest. We are a powerful force, but the Empire has numbers beyond what we can manage. So, I have reached out to some allies for reinforcements." He nodded in the direction of the Fraldarius heir. "Now then, Felix? Has your father responded?"

Felix's ever-present scowl deepened slightly at the mention of his father, but he (thankfully) still responded to Seteth's question. "Yeah. The old man sent a letter. Before anyone worries that it's a fake or something, I know his handwriting. That obnoxious script is practically burned into my eyes, all the times I've had to read it." He sighed and passed the letter down to Seteth.

He read it over, feeling relief at first, but quickly feeling a jab of confusion. "I see. It appears Duke Fraldarius will offer his support, but cannot risk bringing his forces all the way to the monastery. He wishes to meet us somewhere in the middle of his territory and ours." 

"Uh, and? What's in the middle of Fraldarius and here?" Caspar raised an eyebrow.

"Ailell, the Valley of Torment." Seteth pinched the bridge of his nose. "How... inconvenient, though I believe I understand his logic. It is an awful place for a battle, so I imagine the Empire is not actively protecting it."

Sylvain's face screwed up like he'd eaten something sour. "Ugh, really? I'm gonna cook alive in my armor."

Ingrid sighed. "I had to go there once. It was survivable, yes, but definitely a dangerous place to fight. One wrong step and you'd be incinerated."

"Even if it is not likely, it is still possible the Empire will be attacking us there," Petra spoke. "Many letters are being in... inter..."

"Intercepted," Shamir finished for her. "And yes, they are. I imagine someone in the Empire or the Dukedom already knows about this." She let out an annoyed sigh. "It's a coinflip, really. Will the Empire risk battling in Ailell, or will they hold back and trust our reinforcements won't be of use? There's no way of knowing."

"Well, what's the worry? We have a new trump card, right?" Manuela smirked.

"Trump card? Ah, no, you can't mean..." Ashe cringed. "Should we really put Byleth on the battlefield again?"

Seteth closed his eyes, letting out a sigh of his own. "I was thinking of that myself, Manuela. Byleth is... a difficult variable to factor in. So far, he has been willing to fight on our side, and says he is loyal to our side, but-"

"Demonic beasts are  _ way _ too hard to control," Catherine interrupted. "Sure, he ripped the imperial army apart, but we  _ can't  _ be sure he wouldn't trample our soldiers in the process."

Sylvain spoke next. "I'm with her. Sure, Byleth's on our side, but he's still, y'know, a  _ beast _ ."

"Sylvain!" Annette looked hurt. "And Catherine, too! I know Byleth was a little scary in the past battle, but there's no way we would've made it without him! Even if you don't want to bring him with us, at least acknowledge that he's on our side..."

"I'm for it," Felix leaned back in his chair, "the Empire has their beasts, don't they? You can't win against an enemy that has you out-armed. He's smarter than the usual beast, too."

"It might be the only way we'll win..." Ashe fidgets uncomfortably.

The conversation continued, going back and forth. Many were apprehensive about trusting Byleth on a battlefield, but seemingly just as many believed it was a necessary risk. Some, like Annette, fully believed in Byleth being on their side. However, the debate seemed unending.

"All of this bickering and back-and-forth is a waste of time." An unexpected voice was heard from the doorway. For the first time since the first war council at the monastery, Dimitri was here. "Bring the beast. You're already bringing one - why not another?"

Felix scoffed. "I'm all for bringing Byleth to battle, but you're hardly the same sort of case, boar."

Dimitri didn't spare Felix a response. "If an army challenges us at Ailell, they are our enemy. They're dogs of the Empire... of that  _ woman _ , who need to be cut down. If we have such a force of carnage, there is no better enemy to unleash it upon."

Seteth clenched his jaw. He was in support of bringing Byleth along, but Dimitri's insistent focus on the  _ violence _ of the ordeal was unnerving. He didn't want to enable the prince's violent urges more than the war already did. Nonetheless, a leader's duty is to make decisions.

"Though I would not have phrased it so," Seteth stood, getting the council's attention, "I agree with his highness. It is a risk to bring Byleth onto the battlefield, as he is still an unpredictable variable, but it would do our army well to have his strength."

"If this is the indecision that occurs within our war council," Dimitri sneered, "it is no wonder that our army has gotten no closer to having the Emperor's head."

Annette fidgeted uncomfortably. "Um, well... there's a bit of a process, y'know? We can't just jump from 'we secured Garreg Mach' immediately to 'storming Enbarr', that's just -"

"Be  _ silent _ ," Dimitri snapped at her, baring his teeth. "We march for Ailell by the end of the month, and we bring the beast. With the reinforcements, perhaps we can finally force the Empire to kneel for us."

For just a moment, Dimitri almost sounded like a leader. A leader with an iron fist, but still a leader. Seteth sighed and dipped his head. "...understood, your highness. I agree."

Dimitri responded with only a  _ 'hmph' _ sound, before stalking out of the room. The council room was left cast in an uncomfortable silence in the prince's wake. Seteth sat back down, letting out a deep breath.

"...well. That is all, then. You are dismissed."

-

Byleth had been slowly but steadily altering his room to his own liking. He figured it was fine, as whoever 'Ferdinand' was, he wasn't coming back any time soon. Besides, this was his room now, if the original owner returned, they would just have to find a new one. This was Byleth's room, and he wasn't about to give it up for anyone.

Though, he quickly found himself dissatisfied with the bedding he had access to. He'd first tried to swipe some things from his neighbor's room, just to get chased out by an irate blue-haired man (whom he'd later find out was named Caspar, and was the brute that once pushed him off of the stable roof). So, no stealing from rooms that were occupied. However, just one more door down from the first room, there was an empty one. According to the books left behind, it seemingly belonged to someone named 'Hubert'.

Byleth didn't even bother asking who 'Hubert' was. Humans really hated answering questions directly, he realized. Instead, he simply snuck into the room and stole all of the bedding. It was dusty, but nothing that couldn't be easily fixed. With more supplies, he turned his bed into more of a nest. It just felt more natural to curl up in a pile of soft things than to lay down on a square mattress. 

He took good care of his bedding, however. It was hard when so many parts of his body were sharp - claws, wings, tail, etc - but he didn't want to tear or stain anything. It was  _ his _ , after all. He didn't want to ruin it.

Which is why he scowled when he woke up and found that he had nicked himself during the night, re-opening the scab from Linhardt's probing. It'd almost completely healed over, yet it was bleeding again, staining one of his pillows.

_ How did I even manage that? _ Byleth mused bitterly to himself.  _ It's on the back of my calf... did I get it with my other foot or something? _

After a confusing incident where he'd tried cleaning something in the fishing pond, Petra had taught him where to go to do his laundry. Maybe if he acted quickly, the stain wouldn't be as bad. It was sunrise, anyways. Humans generally woke up around this time, so he might as well wake up too.

He grabbed the pillow and stood, walking over to the door. One step away from putting his claws on the doorknob, he froze.

_ Did I leave this open last night? _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dun dun dunnnn.
> 
> Thank you all for your kind comments, by the way! I remember I read something once that was like 'comments to a writer are like chicken soup for the soul', and it couldn't be more right.


	6. Yuzuru

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Armies clash in the Valley of Torment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew, sorry about the wait on this one! I got a little stuck, but I managed to get everything out in the end. Enjoy the chapter!

Byleth didn't need to be asked to join the party headed to Ailell. He knew that was where he belonged; on the front lines alongside the others. He felt a sense of duty when thinking about the humans living in the monastery, especially the former students of the academy. He had been told that it was fine if he preferred to stay behind, but that wasn't even an option he would entertain.

True to his word, Seteth got him fitted with armor. It was sleek and jet black, providing protection while also being light and breathable. There was also an overcoat to protect him from the weather, but Seteth must have misjudged the size. His arms wouldn't reach the ends of the sleeves. Flayn had helpfully offered to hem the sleeves back for him, but Byleth had a better idea. He sliced two holes around the middle of the sleeve for his arms to poke through. Seteth had seen this and pinched the bridge of his nose, but Flayn approved of his creativity.

What was most important about this armor was that it would morph with his form when he shape-shifted. His hide was thick enough to resist most lighter blows, but magic or heavier attacks would slice through him easily. He recalled the wounds he'd sustained in the first battle. Due to his size, the proper strategy would be to send a swarm of soldiers after him. He could take a few blows without falling, but if he accumulated attacks from a large group of enemies, he could be taken down. Remaining armored even in his monstrous form was key.

The armor did leave one of the most fragile parts of his body exposed: his wings. Seteth had explained that if they had armored his wings, he would find it almost impossible to fly. Flight was his last resort if he needed to flee the battle or lose his life - but if his wings weren't armored, wouldn't he be at risk of having them damaged to the point of being grounded?

He couldn't think about the 'what-ifs' right now. Right  _ now _ , he was marching alongside the Kingdom army. He was positioned near the front of the crowd of soldiers, walking alongside the heaviest fighters. He recognized a few faces; Sylvain was on an armored black horse, followed closely by Caspar, who was wearing sturdy steel armor and wielding a heavy-looking axe. Seteth and a woman he'd learned is named Ingrid flew up ahead, on a wyvern and a pegasus respectively. A few paces ahead, Byleth's eyes landed on the cloaked form of Dimitri.

Dimitri left Byleth feeling rather confused. Something deep inside of him was stirring, filling him with a sensation as if he  _ knew  _ Dimitri. He knew him, but also... he didn't. He felt like he knew a different Dimitri, from another life. He felt flashes of a warm smile, blue eyes that were tired yet still warm with kindness, and an awkward yet gentle nature. He didn't understand why - the Dimitri before him was abrasive, violent, and even cruel.

As they approached the steep edge of the molten valley, Byleth could taste the smoke and ash in the back of his throat. He coughed a bit, also feeling the heat licking against his skin.  _ This place is awful, just like they said. _ He noted the discomfort of all the soldiers around him as well.

Sylvain let out a groan from atop his horse. "It's way too hot here... Goddess, if you have  _ any  _ mercy, please let this just be a quick, uncomplicated exchange..."

Caspar was flushed red from the heat as well, but he tried hard not to let his own discomfort show. "If the empire shows themselves, then it won't take us too long to  _ crush  _ them!"

Another wyvern landed nearby, a deep red one with Petra on its back. She wipes sweat off her brow. "I am used to the heat of Brigid, and yet I am still feeling very bad from this place..." She pulled a waterskin from her bag, taking a few small sips. "I had to land my wyvern because I was seeing things on the other side of the valley."

"Huh? Seeing things?" Caspar crossed his arms. "Like what?"

"People, many many people, standing on the far side of the valley." Petra grimaced, looking rather uneasy.

"That's no illusion," Dimitri's low voice growled. "The empire has met our forces in the valley after all. That banner is of  _ House Rowe _ , one of the houses that betrayed us for that woman..." His grip on his lance tightened. "I'll relish being able to cut these traitors down..."

The forces of two armies gathered on opposite sides of the valley and prepared for battle.

* * *

Ashe Ubert had more regrets than he let on. For starters, he regretted being a thief when he was young, even if he had good reason. He regretted not being good enough for Lonato to value him more than avenging Christophe. He regretted that one time he spilled a cup of tea on a nice expensive book. Most of all, he regretted ever being a knight in service of House Rowe.

Lonato had spoken so fondly of the Count, of his knights and his territory. Ashe figured it was the best place for him to go once the war broke out. He'd arrived with high hopes and the courage he needed to finally fight for his country. He stood before seasoned knights and pleaded with them to let him fight.

His first hint that this would not go well was that they had laughed at him. 

He couldn't back out now, though. This is what he had trained for. Though he was still small for his age (and unfortunately, he wouldn't get much larger during his time there) he was strong and capable. He figured he could prove himself to the other knights, show them that he wasn't as weak as they thought. He had faith in his own strengths and faith that these knights had the honor to treat a capable ally with respect.

During one of the first training sessions Ashe attended, he was facing off with an older knight named Kael. The man was a soldier on the younger side as well, though at least five or six years Ashe's senior. Unlike some of the other knights, up until that point Kael had been fairly polite to Ashe. He'd been distant, sure, but he treated Ashe far more kindly than any other knight did.

Apparently, it was all a farce. Kael abandoned all of the rules of training, laughing as he battered Ashe's smaller body into the sandy floor of the knight's training grounds. The knights that had been watching him were laughing as well, even as he called for anyone to help him.

A senior knight had called the ordeal off upon entering the training grounds, but Kael had gotten hardly a slap on the wrist. The people he was meant to call his allies held no respect for him, but Ashe refused to give up. He pledged his loyalty and service to Count Rowe anyways, and he became a soldier fighting under the banner of the Kingdom.

Until the Count revealed that he was surrendering his lands to the Empire. For two years, Ashe fought his former home. The only thing he could comfort himself with was reminding himself that the Church had betrayed him, betrayed his family - so he would betray them in return. The relentless abuse from his comrades along with this line of thinking made him colder inside. Some of his fellow soldiers, the ones that actually  _ did  _ treat him with respect, had told him that he fought as if his heart were made of ice.

Rowe's army was called to attack an Alliance village one night. On that same night, after realizing the soldier he'd buried an arrow into was actually a fleeing civilian, Ashe fled the battlefield in the cover of darkness. He felt so...  _ disgusted  _ with himself, like he'd rotted through on the inside. For a while, he'd just wandered without aim. He wasn't sure if he could allow himself to rejoin the world after so much had changed within him.

He rejoined the Kingdom as soon as he could, fighting alongside the Gautier forces. He never actually  _ saw  _ Sylvain during this time, but it eased him to know he was fighting for someone he knew and trusted. It took a long time, but he felt himself healing inside. The soldiers he fought alongside now respected him, and he got along well with many of them. The ice that had spread inside of his chest slowly ebbed, ironic enough considering his station was in one of the coldest regions of Faerghus.

Seeing the banner of House Rowe now made him feel a chill unlike any of the winds of Gautier, however. He wondered if he'd continued numbing himself inside and stayed with House Rowe, if he would be facing his former allies here and now. The thought made something hurt deep inside of him.

As the armies began to clash in the valley of flames, Ashe felt like he was watching the battle before him instead of participating in it. He knew he stood alongside a battalion of archers, and he felt his voice command them in their attacks. His hands reached for arrows and let them fly, but none of it felt like his own doing. 

He knew, though, that Rowe's forces were outmatched. They had numbers, yes, but he had seen and lived it himself; they had no honor and no camaraderie. They fought like bandits, not soldiers, and fell just as easily. Lord Gwendal was the only real threat on the battlefield, and yet he watched as Byleth, in his full bestial form, took the old veteran down with swipes of his massive claws. 

He also watched Kael fall from one of his own arrows, lodged into one of the soldier's eyes. Ashe didn't feel any satisfaction from it.

Soldiers began to retreat after Gwendal fell, and Ashe began to return to himself. He felt the fletching of his arrows under his fingertips and the strain of his arms as he pulled the bowstring back. A mercenary from a distant land once told him that in his home, there was a word for the sensation of a bowstring being held tight;  _ Yuzuru _ .

He wondered if there was a word for the way the world tensed after a battle. The gap between the end and the victory, where it felt like everything - even the air itself - was holding its breath. Ashe felt a burn in his shoulders as he kept his bow at the ready, unwilling to relax until he knew the battle was over.

Just as the soldiers around him started to relax, the entire battlefield erupted into screaming.

* * *

Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd met the enemy forces with all of his strength when they had arrived. Soldiers surged forward in swarms, but they all met their end on the blade of his lance. He gouged into their flesh with his weapon, tearing through the masses in a frenzy. He didn't stop to think or feel, he simply moved forward on instinct and muscle memory alone.

He was snapped out of his haze for only a brief moment when the Fraldarius soldiers arrived. Rodrigue had raced to his side on horseback, gleefully greeting him as if Dimitri wasn't a shambling husk. He couldn't share in the enthusiasm, but somewhere deep in the hollow cavity of his chest, he felt relief and comfort in seeing the familiar face. They could only share a few brief words before he galloped off to reunite with Felix, who begrudgingly accepted a fine-looking sword from his father.

Dimitri rushed back into the battle without much hesitation. However, the time he'd taken to stop and feel had thrown him off, and quickly he found himself sustaining wounds. They were small injuries, nothing that could slow him down too severely, but it was enough to start to accumulate. An arrow sliced through his thigh, a tomahawk crashed against his shoulder armor, a rapier sliced through his cheek... He found himself falling back slightly, gritting his teeth in frustration.

Just as he feared he would be forced to retreat further, thundering footsteps behind him caught his attention. A growl was the only warning he got to dodge out of the way as Byleth tore through the battlefield, leaping clear over him and crushing several of the enemy soldiers under his claws. 

With a moment to steel himself (and a flash of healing magic from an unknown source, must have been a physic from Mercedes) he was able to charge back into the fray, this time fighting alongside his fellow beast. Fighting too close to Byleth was risky, as many of his attacks had unexpectedly wide areas of damage, but Dimitri was quick enough to react that he could dive out of the way to avoid being crushed under a claw or battered with Byleth's long tail. 

In return, Dimitri cut through enemies that tried to sneak under Byleth's vision, sneaking up on the beast as he was distracted with the rest of the battle. He disposed of them easily, ensuring that Byleth would not be interrupted on his warpath. With satisfaction, he saw that his kin's claws were aimed at the commander of the army - Lord Gwendal.

To the old knight's credit, he held his own against Byleth much longer than most other soldiers could. He managed to slice a mean-looking gash into Byleth's side, just missing an attack on the beast's soft underbelly. He also took hits from Byleth's heavy claws better than most could. However, his horse was not so sturdy, and as soon as the mount collapsed, it was over for Gwendal.

Not many soldiers remained, but those that did began to flee en masse. Dimitri's grip on his lance tightened, and he felt tempted to pursue them, but he stopped himself. He couldn't waste his energy on those roaches, not when he still needed to spill Edelgard's blood on the cobblestone streets of Enbarr. He'd let these soldiers flee, for now, saving himself for the stronger foes yet left to fight.

Byleth stood, now shrunken down into his humanoid form, illuminated by the fires spouting from the hellish earth. He was painted shades of gold and red from a mixture of the flames and the blood that soaked his armor. He looked brilliant in that moment; like a nightmare come to life in a way that was both beautiful and horrible.

He smeared blood off of his chin with a hand, his snake-like eyes darting over to look at Dimitri. No words were exchanged, but Dimitri could read his gaze. Fighting alongside another person creates such a connection between people.

_ 'Well-fought,' _ his eyes spoke.

He approached Byleth, now feeling the pain of a few injuries that the adrenaline hadn't let him feel. He wanted to say  _ something  _ in the aftermath of this fight, but no words formed themselves on his lips. The entire army must've also been caught in a similar stupor, for the only sounds that remained were the hissing of the valley's fire.

Until Dimitri heard the sound of clapping.

His gaze followed the sound up to a jagged stone that rose high above where the bulk of the army now stood. He was dressed in a mage's robes, and the lack of kingdom colors suggested that this was a straggling remaining soldier from Rowe's army. Dimitri gripped his lance once more, preparing to cut down this last enemy. He gave them all a chance to flee for their lives, the ones who refused to do so will have to accept the consequences of that.

"Excellent work," the mage said. His expression was impossible to see due to the hood of his robes, but his tone suggested he was grinning. "But now? Now, it's over."

He heard the screaming before he saw the reason why. Demonic beasts were spilling into the valley from all sides. Though they were smaller than Byleth's monstrous form, they came in the dozens, unfortunately out-matching him in numbers. Soldiers fought bravely, but for each blow they landed on one of the beasts, one of their own would be ripped apart.

Byleth shifted into his full form despite his clear exhaustion and rushed into the fray, taking on three of the beasts at once. Dimitri also joined the fight, commanding his slowly waning strength to swing his lance into the thick leathery flesh of the beasts.

Faintly, through the blood roaring in his ears, he could hear the mage laughing. His laughter, sick and jagged like broken glass, echoed around the valley. An order sounded out, leaving a chill to crawl up Dimitri's spine.

"Capture as many as you can, and kill the rest! Let none of them escape! Their blood shall be the wind beneath the Pale One's wings! Fight well, for He rises!"

Dimitri spun around just in time to see just what the mage was speaking about. Rising from behind the mage, silhouetting the moon which just barely glimmered from behind the clouds, was a  _ dragon _ . It had a thin, ivory-white body, wickedly curved horns, and four broad, feathered wings. What looked like lightning crackled around it, and a blast of pure ice-blue energy blasted into the smoldering ground, erupting from its maw. 

"Retreat!" Dimitri found himself bellowing. His legs moved on their own as he rushed towards the bulk of his army. "Retreat,  _ now _ !"

The kingdom forces needed no more convincing. The efforts of fighting the hoards of beasts that had spilled in had paid off; there was an escape route in sight. The remaining Fraldarius soldiers joined them in the retreat, commanded by Rodrigue and Felix. 

Shrouded figures slipped within the rushing crowd, but they had appeared and gone so fast that Dimitri wondered if they were merely the ghosts of the fallen. Surely there was enough blood spilled on the molten earth of the valley for that. He slashed at one of them, but they evaded his attack and fled, so he had no idea what they were.

He couldn't stop to think about that. He couldn't stop for anything. All he could do was retreat with the rest of his army, or else he would never be able to see his revenge through.

* * *

Shamir Nevrand found herself in charge of assessing their current forces. The battle the day prior had been catastrophic, but the Fraldarius forces had replaced their fallen soldiers and then some. In a way, it could be considered a success. Perhaps someone who wasn't as numb to the carnage would note that it was cruel to consider human lives to be 'replaced'. Either way, they had more soldiers than they went into the valley with, and that was the goal.

Seteth had asked her to keep a count on who had survived and who hadn't. It was tedious work, especially considering that everyone (including herself) was wounded and exhausted from the battle, but thankfully she had several people to help her. They had done a headcount and checked it against their rosters, and as promised she managed to compile a list of the fallen. She wasn't sure why he needed this, but she figured it had something to do with funeral rites or something religious. 

Out of curiosity, however, she picked through the pages. Most of the names were unfamiliar to her, but there were a few that she knew. Even with all the battles she had seen, she couldn't help but cringe at those names. She knew death as an old friend and knew how to handle it. Even still, she felt the tiniest jab of pain at knowing someone who had died. Maybe it was just a bit of her humanity shining through.

She paused at one of the last names on the list and frowned. The old professor had called on her many times to give seminars to her students, and whenever she had nothing better to do she would do as she was asked. Despite how distant she tried to keep herself, Shamir did find herself growing a bit attached to some of the students. They were good kids, skilled too. 

Especially Ashe Ubert. He was good with the bow, enthusiastic about learning, and endlessly determined. Yes, his optimistic attitude and idealistic view of knighthood were a bit grating, but he was a good kid. Shamir thought he was quite alright.

But, according to the headcount, now he was just quite dead.

Her grip tightened ever-so-slightly on the paper in her hands, before she simply folded it up and went to deliver it to Seteth's desk as she was asked.

* * *

  
In his final moments, before the world went dark, Ashe remembered that  _ Yuzuru _ also meant 'submission'.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick note: 'Yuzuru' is actually a name, and while it does mean 'bowstring pulled tight', the other meaning is actually closer to 'yield' than 'submission'. However, I liked the symbolism there, and I figured this is a fantasy language anyways, so I let it slide.
> 
> What fantasy language is it? I dunno. Maybe it's Hoshidan. Hoshido was a cool place, I guess it deserves to be in a better game than Fates.


	7. The Outline of the Sun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Well, for one, I kind of like talking to you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M SORRY FOR DISAPPEARING, AAAAAAAAA---
> 
> But!!! But. I'm back now. 
> 
> Now, to address the elephant in the room - Cindered Shadows. Maya and Sitri are different characters. Maya had a weak connection to Sothis, and was strong and healthy. In contrast, Sitri had no connection to Sothis, and was very weak and sickly. They both play the same role, but they're different characters.
> 
> Essentially, I'm picking and choosing what parts of Cindered Shadows are canon.
> 
> Anyways, I hope you all enjoy the chapter!

Petra Macneary, like many in her home of Brigid, expressed herself through her skin.

Tattoos were a key part of her culture, as well as many forms of body paint. Permanent marks represented lifelong wishes and experiences, while the temporary dyes represented things that could be more fleeting. In times between battles, where the army has a chance to rest and prepare, she would often write the rune for ‘Joy’ on the back of her hand. Happiness could be fleeting, but it was worth pursuing. Before battles, she would paint the rune for ‘Victory’ on her chest, right over her heart. A tattoo on her arm called for the protection of Brigid’s spirit of travel, to keep her safe when she was far from home.

The tattoo on her back meant ‘Rebellion’.

She liked to keep her various runes and inscriptions on full display, a part of her pride in the face of many who considered her people to be animalistic and savage. However, there were times when she had to hide her skin. There were times she couldn’t risk being recognized. She pulled on peasant’s robes that covered her entire body in worn, scratchy fabric, and pulled the hood of a cowl over her head. That, she could handle. It hurt the most to cover the rune beneath her eye with makeup.

It was a necessary task, though. She was one of the Kingdom’s best spies, on-par with the likes of Shamir - and they couldn’t risk losing her during a mission. Especially not now, not when the kingdom’s army was left reeling from an attack they couldn’t understand, and needed information more than ever.

Thankfully, they had an informant. A very valuable source of information from within the Empire. She approached the Varley manor confidently, knowing that the best tool at a spy’s disposal was acting like they belonged wherever they went. If you acted unsure of yourself, that would draw suspicion - but people were unlikely to question someone who looked like they were meant to be there. 

Petra had to hide a smirk (for even then, what spy could approach  _ this  _ boldly?) as she walked right up to the manor’s front door and grabbed the bronze door-knocker, rapping it gently against the wood.  _ ‘I am a servant,’ _ she reminded herself as she heard footsteps approaching the door,  _ ‘a peasant from Aegir, sent to carry messages and nothing more’. _

A well-dressed maid opened the door. “Hello? Do you have business here?”

Petra lifted her head a bit.  _ ‘Confidence,’  _ she reminded herself.  _ ‘Only show humility or nerves in front of the count, he needs to think you know you’re beneath him.’  _ “I am from Aegir, here to… carry a message.” She internally cursed herself, having almost messed up her grammar. In casual conversation she put a bit less pressure on herself, but she couldn’t slip up here. It could raise suspicion.

“Oh, yes, Lady Bernadetta did mention she was expecting you.” The maid’s eyes flashed with recognition. Petra moved forward to step inside, but the Maid tensed and cut her off. “Ah, but--” She shook her head. “Do you have a letter with the Aegir seal on it? Apologies, we simply need to be cautious of whom we let into the manor…”

Petra swore internally, but externally she nodded as if nothing was wrong. “Of course, give me a moment.” She reached into her bag, pretending to shuffle around as she struggled to think of what to do next. Previously, she had managed to get in previously without much trouble, but-

“M-Miss Angelle, it’s alright. I know this messenger personally.” A familiarly stuttering voice reached Petra’s ears, and she felt a wash of cool relief. She glanced up to see Bernadetta herself standing not far beyond the doorway, her expression still just as rabbit-like as Petra remembered. 

“My lady!” The servant turned and bowed, caught off-guard and clearly flustered. “My sincerest apologies, I didn’t mean to get in your way…!”

Bernadetta winced. “No, no, it’s okay, it’s… oh, goodness. I-It’s really fine…!”

Petra, out of politeness, fought back the amusement creeping onto her expression. Two women, both acting like rabbits… if this was how Bernadetta’s servants acted, it was no wonder she grew up behaving similarly. 

Bernadetta, as usual, brought Petra through to her private chambers. Even in privacy, they couldn’t risk being overheard. After all, Bernadetta von Varley was the Faerghus resistance’s most valuable source of information. It turned out that an unassuming hermit was great at hiding from suspicion.

An unassuming hermit also had plenty of time on her hands to learn another, lesser-spoken language. In their discussions, Petra and Bernadetta slipped into Brigidian, so if anyone overheard them - they’d never understand what they were saying anyways. Petra couldn’t help but be a tiny bit envious, though, since Bernadetta’s Brigidian was so much better than her Fodlanese. 

“I heard about Aileill,” Bernadetta spoke softly, safely behind the veil of language. “I promise, I didn’t hide any information…! That wasn’t the plan at all, at least not how I heard it.”

Petra nodded. “Don’t worry, I trust you. I know you wouldn’t hide anything from us. I suspect that what happened was not in the plan at all.” Petra sighed, gently drumming her fingers on the table while she thought. “...the ‘Pale One’... do you know anything about that?”

Bernadetta shifted uncomfortably in her seat. “I… I’ve only heard rumors. Some of those dark mages that the emperor has recruited - I heard they were creating a monster beyond any demonic beasts that have ever existed before…!”

Petra frowned uneasily. “I see. In addition, did you hear about soldiers… disappearing, from the battlefield?”

“I-I have, Empire soldiers fall every day, and not many of their bodies can be retrieved, but they don’t often just  _ vanish…  _ i-it’s more that getting the bodies back isn’t safe.” She sighed. “It’s really odd, isn’t it?”

“Wait,” Petra shook her head, “ _ Empire  _ soldiers? I was referring to Kingdom soldiers. Some scouts surveyed Ailell for bodies, and a lot of soldiers marked as ‘dead’ were simply… gone.”

Anxiety filled Bernadetta’s expression. “Soldiers are disappearing from both sides…? W-Why could that be?”

“I’m starting to suspect,” Petra confessed, “that there might be a third party in this conflict we haven’t accounted for.”

\---

Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd returned to his usual position, looming over the rubble at the cathedral. But now, gripped in his gauntlet-clad fingers, he was accompanied by the Hero’s Relic he never thought he’d be able to wield. How Rodrigue had managed to get his hands on it, Dimitri would never know. However, he felt a sense of victory simply holding it now. He knew the privilege of such a weapon was wasted on a beast like him, but anything that brought him closer to Enbarr was something he would accept.

Besides… he liked how it felt to hold a relic. It resonated with him and hummed with power. It felt like having a powerful soldier at his side, someone to give him the confidence he needed to fight. Of course, he wasn’t a fledgeling soldier anymore, he didn’t need to be chaperoned through the battlefield, but he felt a sense of comfort from having the odd presence all the same.

An unexpected voice took him out of his thoughts. “Dimitri.” Very few people called him by his name, sticking to ill-fitting titles for a beast such as him, so he knew who it was before he even turned around.

“Byleth,” he responded in a low voice as the beast took a position beside him. “What do you want?”

Byleth shook his head. “Nothing. Just to speak with you.” He held up a flask of water. “Do you need something to drink?”

Dimitri sneered and looked away. “Such things are wasted on me.”

“Drink it,” Byleth insisted, a surprising amount of force in his tone. “You’ll die without it, and then you’ll never make it to the Imperial capital.” Before Dimitri could protest, Byleth continued. “Besides, the monastery has pipes that pull clean water from the earth. There’s more than enough water. It’s not a waste.”

The prince scoffed, but didn’t debate it any further. “Fine,” he replied sharply, swiping the flask and taking a sip of the cool water. It made him realize how dry his throat was, and he pretended he didn’t notice Byleth’s smug expression when he quickly gulped the water down. ‘ _ How did he know I hadn’t had a proper drink of water in so long?’ _

“In the last battle,” Byleth began, after Dimitri had finished his drink, “you fought well. I didn’t think anyone could fight alongside me without getting trampled.”

“It’s like battling any demonic beast, except my attacks were not aimed at you. That is all,” he grunted. “I learned to be light on my feet, yet heavy with my blows.”

“Well, regardless,” Byleth continued, “you’re a capable warrior. Thank you for covering me.”

_ ‘He came here to thank me?’ _ “I’m a walking weapon, nothing else. You do not thank the sword that cuts your enemies down, do you?

“You’re not a weapon,” the beast replied matter-of-factly. “At least, no more than I am.” He paused to think for a moment before speaking again. “I suppose in war, everyone becomes a weapon, don’t they?”

Dimitri let out a hollow, humorless laugh. “You’re quite right. Unlike the others, though, I know I serve no purpose off of the battlefield.”

“No purpose?” Byleth tilted his head to the side. “I wouldn’t say that.”

“Tch - and why not?”

Byleth shrugged, as if this were the simplest thing in the world. “Well, for one, I kind of like talking to you.”

\---

Linhardt von Hevring was eager to return to his studies after the battle, but an injury to the leg had left him bedridden for longer than he’d like. Still, he was up and about as soon as he could support his own weight, since he figured he could manage his own injuries without help. Science didn’t wait for injuries to heal - it only waited for an occasional nap.

Mercifully, he wasn’t put too far behind. The samples he had gathered from Byleth took a long time to process, as the more expedient machines were coveted away in Hanneman’s own lab. He was stuck with the more ameteur equipment, with the devices that took their sweet time to provide results. Linhardt could be quite patient, content to sleep and read until results appeared, but even he itched to know the results of the test.

At last, a few sunrises after the battle, Linhardt found that the glowing, magical projection on the machine showed a result. Ignoring the protests of his body, and the tiredness that clung to him, he rolled out of bed and hurried to the machine. At last, he could finally make some headway in the mystery of how Byleth came to be, and what advances in crestology could be held in the secrets of his bestial blood.

A crest showed itself in the projection, much to Linhardt’s glee. It only took him a moment to recognize it -  _ the Crest of Flames.  _ He felt like a child opening presents for the Winter Festival. The only descendant of Nemesis he had ever known was his former professor, and - well, today was a good day for science, he wasn’t going to think about her fate - he had assumed he would never get another chance to study this rare, legendary crest.

Of course, there was the question of  _ why  _ a demonic beast had this blood. Was there another descendant of Nemesis out there? Perhaps whoever had assembled Byleth used blood from one of those people, or perhaps some dark mages had access to the elusive crest stone that has reportedly been missing from the Sword of the Creator for centuries. The Crest of Flames was such an oddity in Crestology, following such different rules than all other recorded Crests, but that just made the prospect of studying it further even more fascinating.

Linhardt’s eyebrows raised, however, when he noticed something else had come up on the display. There was an unknown substance mixed with Byleth’s blood.  _ ‘Is this something that’s normal for Demonic Beasts, or is it…?’ _ His thoughts trailed off when he felt a presence behind him.

“Well, I think that’s far enough.” 

Before Linhardt could even turn around, something heavy was bashed into the back of his skull, and the world went dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are my lifeblood, positive and critical, so if you have any thoughts; let me know!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Please leave comments with your thoughts. 
> 
> If you're curious, I drew demon!Byleth on my twitter here: https://twitter.com/grimalkind/status/1213299426434932736
> 
> Have a nice day!
> 
> UPDATE: WE HAVE FANART!
> 
> https://twitter.com/sharkurai/status/1241528970539122690


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